Not a Fairy Tale
by Helvetica Compressed
Summary: To say it was a dream come true would be an understatement. After getting accepted for a job in the BAU, Marie Fischer is more than willing to pack up and move to Virginia, but everything good comes with a price. Full summary inside. ReidxOCxHotch.
1. It Starts at the Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Criminal Minds.

Notes: Hello there! This happens to be my first story here on fanfiction, so we'll see how it goes. I've written a couple chapters of this so far, but I want to get a few more done before I start posting chapters regularly. Reviews and constructive criticism would be great seeing as I still have a long way to go before I fully understand everything here. This chapter here is a good deal shorter than the other chapters I have written, but I just wanted a little introduction to the story. Also, this story will be written in first person. I had first intended to write in third person, but after writing the first few paragraphs of this chapter I found that it just worked better to do it in first person. There will be times when I will switch to third person, but the story will be in first primarily, and you will always be notified of these times. And please, if you find any errors don't hesitate to tell me, I want to make this an enjoyable and non-confusing story for people to read.

Full Summary: To say it was a dream come true for Marie Fischer would be an understatement. After getting accepted at such a young age for a job in the BAU she is more than willing to pack up and move to Virginia, but everything good comes with a price. So just how much is she willing to pay? ReidxOCxHotch. The ReidxOC pairing is more likely going to be the main pairing in this story with a little bit of HotchxOC on the side, but we'll have to see how it goes.

* * *

**"A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul."** -Franz Kafka

**-Chapter 1-**

**It Starts at the Beginning**

* * *

When I was a child my mother would read me stories to put me to sleep at night. She loved books. She always told me it was because they gave her unimaginable powers. It was her decision if the characters went on their adventures, if they got their happy endings, if they lived or died. If she didn't want something to happen she could control that. She could shut the book, skip a chapter, or even make up her own ending. It was her place to play God, and she loved it. And so I loved it as well.

My mother never read me the fairy tales people are told as children. I never heard about the struggles of Cinderella, the pure love that blossomed between Belle and the Beast, and even Hansel and Gretle were not to my mother's tastes. She said they were unrealistic. She never was one for the perfect happy ending. She insisted that life wasn't about overcoming one or two obstacles and then living the rest of your days happily ever after. Life is full of constant obstacles and battles to overcome, and we must continue to fight and win in order to maintain our happiness. She told me that more times than I can remember.

No, instead she chose to read me what she deemed to be "realistic"; H.P. Lovecraft, Mark Twain, Homer, and Aldous Huxley, to name a few. Now that I look back I have to laugh, _The Call of Cthulhu_ and the _Iliad_ aren't exactly nonfiction. Maybe she just liked tragedies and that was her way of trying to come up with an explanation to shut me up, but somewhere in that little brain of mine it made sense. Unlike my mother, however, I have always had a love for happier endings. I don't mind tragedy, so long as I can end with just a little bit of hope.

As I got older I kept that love of stories and adventures, falling in love with _Sherlock Holmes_ and other novels about great detectives. They had enough troubles and tragedy to be to my mother's liking, but when the creeps were locked up behind bars I would get the happy ending I always wanted.

Maybe that's what first brought on the idea of going into Criminal Justice. Well, that and the fact that my father had a career in it as well. I loved the thought that I could help people to overcome some of the hardest things to deal with in life in order to bring them a little bit of happiness. My mother agreed. She was overjoyed when I first came to her with the idea.

My father, on the other hand, was not so thrilled. He's always been overprotective of me and my siblings, so it's no wonder why he would oppose. He didn't want to see me doing what he did out on the field. I don't blame him really, what man would want his oldest daughter to be dealing with murderers and death on a day-to-day basis? With my mother on my side, however, it didn't take long to wear him down.

And so now here I stand, on a cool Thursday morning in October, before the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit building in Quantico, Virginia. A large box cradled in my arms in front of me and a packet of papers gripped tightly beneath that in my right hand.

Taking a deep breath I put on the best smile I could muster with the nervous feeling I had in the pit of my stomach and entered.

* * *

I can't say I was surprised when I was stopped by an intimidating man the second I stepped inside. He had his badge on display on his breast, although I didn't bother to look at it closely, and was in uniform. He asked me what the "nature of my visit" was. My smile faltered at this slightly, but I recovered quickly.

"My name's Marianna Fischer. I was assigned here recently, to the BAU. I'm supposed to report to-" I shifted the box's weight to my left arm as I flipped open the file in my hands. "-to a Mr. Aaron Hotchner?" I glanced up at him while biting my lower lip, a nervous habit I've had all my life. He stared at me for a long while, as if he was trying to decide if I was telling the truth or not.

After a sufficiently awkward silence he glanced at the file I held. "Those are your papers?" He asked, holding out a hand. I gladly gave them to him, bringing the weight back off my aching left arm and using both hands to hold it up once again. The man in front of me, a security guard of some sorts I assumed, flipped open my file. His eyes glanced over it for a while before nodding. "Alright, Ms. Fischer, please follow me." I let out a sigh of relief as he turned and began walking towards an elevator a little ways off. I was even more happy, though, when I realized he had decided to carry my papers himself.

_One less thing to carry. Thank God._

He stepped into the elevator and turned to make sure I followed. I stepped inside and let out a shaky breath. I've never really been a fan of elevators.

_It's better than carrying this box up who knows how many flights of stairs._

I reassured myself as the guard pushed both the button for the floor we wanted and the button to close the door. The first few seconds of the ride were met with another wonderfully awkward silence. I was getting so used to it that I had to stop myself from jumping when the guard spoke.

"So how long've you been in the crime-catching business?" Idle conversation, but I'll take what I can get.

"Only a year. I went and got my degree in Psychology and Criminal Justice, after that I was accepted into the academy. Once I finished there I was able to get my first real job." I told him. He looked at me skeptically.

"You've only been working for a year and you've already made it to the BAU? You must be pretty good." He said with a short chuckle. I tried to hide my wince with a laugh of my own.

_Yeah, "good". That and I have a father who insisted on pulling some strings._

I can't say I was proud of what my father had done. There were plenty of people who had worked much harder and much longer than I have that were denied this job. It made me feel guilty, of course, but it wasn't an opportunity that I was going to pass up either. It's likely that I wouldn't ever get this sort of a chance again, and I wanted to show my father that I could do this and that he didn't need to worry about me.

"What about you?" I asked him, trying to keep the conversation alive. He seemed to think about it for a moment before opening his mouth.

"I've been working here for three years, but I've been in the business for at least six years now." I nodded at this, giving him a smile.

"You like working here?" At this he let out another chuckle. This one sounded a little less tense and forced than the last.

"It puts food on the table." I glanced at him. The grin on his face was enough to release some of my built-up tension and nerves. I relaxed a little, but had run out of things to say.

Thankfully the ride up didn't last much longer. When the elevator stopped and the door opened, however, the nervous feeling that had almost left returned full-force.

"Here we are." The guard said next to me. I stepped out and turned to wait for him to follow, only to see him handing me my file. "I've gotta get back to the front door. Just go up the stairs there-" He gestured to the stairs. "-and it's the first door right there." He nodded at the door.

I bit my lower lip and turned my attention back from the door to him. He set the papers on top of the box and kept his hand outstretched. I shifted the weight of the box again to my left arm and took his hand without too much trouble. "It was nice talking to you, Marianna." He smiled.

"Please, call me Marie, and it was nice talking to you too. Thank you." I said, shaking his hand before cradling the box once again.

He nodded and took a step back into the elevator, smoothing out his uniform before pushing the button to close the door once again. I waited for it to shut before turning around.


	2. Welcome to the Team

Disclaimer: I still do not own anything having to do with Criminal Minds.

Notes: I was going to wait a little while longer, but I couldn't help myself, so here's another chapter. Unfortunately that probably means that the next chapter wont be up for a while. Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated. Enjoy!

* * *

**"Sometimes one creates a dynamic impression by saying something, and sometimes one creates as significant an impression by remaining silent."** -Dalai Lama

**-Chapter 2-**

**Welcome to the Team  
**

* * *

Turning around I surveyed my surroundings. In front of me people with stacks of papers and cups of coffee weaved between desks and chatted with one another. The place looked busy and it seemed as though my arrival had gone nearly unnoticed. A few people looked up at me with confused glances, but said nothing. I took another deep breath and held it. Counting to five before letting the air out, allowing my tension to be released with the breath.

It was something that my mother would make me do as a child when I was angry. After a while I started using it for situations where I was nervous or afraid as well. It didn't do very much, but it was enough. I turned my head to the left and looked and the stairs that made the room a split-level. At the top of the stairs there were a few rooms, the first of which looked to be occupied. I assumed it was the office I was looking for.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight._

I counted out the stairs so I wouldn't have to crane my neck to look at them over the box while climbing them.

Shifting the box so it was in a more comfortable position I shuffled to the stairs, taking them slowly and carefully so as not to trip. The last thing I needed on my first day was a twisted ankle. At the top of the stairs I looked to the right. The door to the first office was open an inch or so and I took that as a sign that I wouldn't be disturbing anyone if I went it. Just to be sure, I leaned slightly against the door and knocked as I pushed it open in order to announce my entrance.

Sitting at the desk was the man I assumed was named Aaron Hotchner. He had a stern expression on his face and, from what I could tell, had been focusing quite hard on the paperwork he had sprawled out in front of him before I had entered. When I knocked his trance was broken and he looked up, surprised.

I tried to remain calm, planning on smiling and showing him the confident person I wanted to come off as, but his intimidating presence was more than I had expected and my plan really didn't go through the way I had wanted it to. In retrospect, I suppose my expression at that exact moment could have been likened to a deer in the headlights.

"Can I help you?" His voice was different than I thought it would be. It was low and commanding, as I anticipated, but it was also warm, and comforting. It reminded me of a strict father.

"Yes-uh-my name is Marianna Fischer. I was recently assigned to the BAU." I stumbled over my words at first but recovered and finished well.

At first he looked confused, like he was trying to remember where he had heard my name before. I forced myself not to bite my lip, I wanted to come off as professional as possible. After a moment his face changed to one of recognition. "Fischer! Yes, of course, Fischer." He shuffled through some of the papers on his desk and retrieved one from a pile. "Marianna Fischer, from Madison, Wisconsin?" He asked. I nodded without a word. "I see..." He trailed off, reading through the paper intently for a few seconds.

"You have your file?" He questioned. "Yes, sir." I said, taking a few steps forward and resting a small portion of the box on his desk, allowing me to freely move my right arm. Paying close attention so as to not risk knocking over any of the pictures on the edge of his desk I relished the feeling as much of the box's weight was no longer on my arms. I used my free hand to hand him the documents he requested.

"Thank you." He flipped open the file, examining it just as closely as he had done to the other paper before smiling slightly. The smile caught me off guard a little. It wasn't very big, a polite smile more than anything, but it looked strange on him. Not a bad strange, of course, but I suppose I was already used to the stern-faced man I had seen when walking through the door.

His eyes moved from the paper back up to me and I looked at him anxiously. He set the papers down on the desk and stretched out a hand to me. "Welcome to the team, Ms. Fischer. I've heard a lot good things about you, I trust you wont let me down."

I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face at that moment, eagerly taking his hand with my free one and shaking it. "Of course not sir, and please, call me Marie."

Ms. Fischer sounded strange to me, and I wasn't a fan of my full name. My parents had given me the nickname Marie when I was born, but believed I needed a more formal name for when I got out into the work world, so I was stuck with having to tell everyone to just call me Marie.

"Hotch." He returned. "Follow me, I'll show you to your desk and introduce you to the rest of the team." With that he made his way around his desk, passing me and heading to the door. I quickly picked up my box despite the protest of my sore arms and followed him out of his office.

Descending the stairs was more difficult than getting up them. I had to keep up with Hotch, but at the same time I had to make sure I didn't miss a step. Which was difficult without being able to look at them. Thankfully I was able to make it down without any tripping, and I quickly followed after him.

Hotch came to a stop beside an empty desk and put a hand down on it. "This is your desk, and that-" He pointed at the desk beside mine. "-is the desk of Emily Prentiss. One of the members of the team." I nodded, making a mental note of her name. If I was going to be sitting right next to her I was going to have to learn her name fast.

"Morgan!" Hotch raised his voice to get the attention of someone. I quickly put my box down on my desk, shrugging my coat off my shoulders and throwing it on the back of my new chair. I then proceeded to smooth out my shirt and pants. When I looked back up two people stood in front of me. "This is SSA Derek Morgan." Hotch introduced the man on the right who immediately extended a hand in greetings. "Pleasure to meet you." The man, Derek, said. He was charming, to say the least, but that was obviously just in his nature. "And this is Penelope Garcia, our Technical Analyst." The woman standing next to Morgan smiled wide and shook my hand enthusiastically. "What he said." I laughed lightly at this, this Penelope girl was obviously a person who enjoyed life. "This is Marie Fischer, she's the newest addition to the team." Hotch presented. "Do either of you know where the others are?"

"Prentiss and J.J. should be around here somewhere and Reid just called to say he would be back in a little while. As for Rossi, I believe he just went down to the first floor with some papers for the guys down there." Morgan answered without missing a beat. "Hotch, we'll introduce her to the rest of the gang. You can get back to your paperwork." He continued. Hotch looked a little relieved and thanked them, turning and heading back to his office after dismissing himself. When he was gone I turned to my two new teammates.

"Come on, let's go find Prentiss and J.J., they've gotta be around here somewhere." Morgan gave me a grin and turned before strolling towards what I assumed to be the direction he thought the other members of the team would be. I fell into step next to Penelope and she seemed eager to question me. "So where're you from?" She asked.

"Madison, Wisconsin." I responded. She looked a little interested in that piece of news. "That far away?" She asked, sounding surprised. "What made you come all the way to Virginia?" I shrugged. "It was a job offer I couldn't pass up. The chance was too good to let a little homesickness stop me." She laughed a little at that, nodding in agreement.

"There they are!" Morgan nearly shouted from in front of us. I looked up ahead to see two women happily conversing with each other. We approached slowly so as not to rudely interrupt them. "Hey, you two, you gonna come and meet the newest addition to our family?" He asked them from a ways away. The two look up, surprised by Morgan. We closed the remaining distance between the two parties and the introductions ensued.

"Guys, this is Marie Fischer. Marie, this Emily Prentiss and this is Jennifer Jareau, or just J.J. for short." The two girls smiled at the same time and greeted me with a "Nice to meet you." I made a point to remember which one was Emily.

_So that's who I'm going to be sitting by from now on._

Fair enough, she looked like a nice person from what I could see.

_Conversations might be a little difficult to come up with, considering she doesn't look like much of a conversationalist, but I'm sure we'll think of something to talk about. And if not then we'll both just pretend to be too busy with our work to talk._

The thought of it made me smile wider. "Have you guys introduced her to Rossi or Spencer yet?" The one called J.J. asked. Morgan shook his head. "Reid just called to say that he'll be back soon and Rossi went to drop some papers off downstairs a little while ago."

"What did I go to do a little while ago?" A voice came from behind us. We all turned and I saw Penelope and Morgan smile. "Rossi, we were just wondering when you'd get back. We wanted to introduce you to the new kid." Morgan teased. I couldn't help but roll my eyes a little. "This is Marie Fischer."

Rossi brought his hand out for me to shake and I took it. "David Rossi, good to meet you." I smiled and said a quick "you too" back.

_How many more of these am I going to have to go through? It would have been much faster and easier if I could have been introduced to all of them at once._

A nice thought, but it was pointless to think about at this time. Just one more and I would be done. Whenever he got here that is. Penelope turned to me after all was said and spoke. "I'll help you unpack your stuff for now, we'll introduce you to Spencer when he gets here." I agreed and followed her back to my desk, trying not to bump into anyone else working there.

She was the first to my desk and wasted no time in opening up my box. She rifled through the contents for a moment before pouting. "No pictures?" she asked in an almost sad tone. I shook my head with a laugh. "No, sorry. I've never really been one for pictures. Besides, I don't have any good ones to put on my desk anyways." She looked a little upset by this but quickly recovered. "Well then, we'll just have to get you some good pictures that you can put on it!" She said.

_Are pictures really that important?_

With that she began emptying the contents of the box, setting them out onto the desk in a fashion that she believed to be acceptable. I had two puzzle items that she examined before grinning. "If Spencer were here he'd have this finished in ten seconds flat." I laughed. "Oh really? What is he, some sort of genius?" It was her turn to laugh. "Yes, that's exactly what he is."

_A genius, huh? I've never met a genius before._

"There! Perfect, now you're all set to be an official member of the family!" She had just finished arranging out all the contents of the box and I looked over her work, finding it to be to my liking. I looked over and grinned at her. "I'm excited to be a part of it."


	3. You Start Immediately

Disclaimer: I still own nothing having to do with Criminal Minds.

Notes: This chapter is a little longer than the other two were. I'm hoping to keep the chapters around this length, but we'll see. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but my hope is that I'll get it up within the next week or so, it depends on how long it takes me to write it. Bonus points to anyone who knows what two episodes this chapter is set between. Thanks to Lalapuppyy, LaLa-036, and Criminalmindswtf for the reviews! The very last part of this chapter has dialogue from the characters that is almost word-for-word the same as the episode this is set before (with minor adjustments) so if it looks familiar that's why. Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated! Enjoy!

* * *

**"I know that I am intelligent, because I know that I know nothing."** -Socrates

**-Chapter 3-**

**You Start Immediately  
**

* * *

I never knew that a person could ask so many questions. That is, of course, until I met Penelope Garcia. I don't know how long I sat there under her interrogation, but I do know that she enjoyed every minute of it.

"So how long have you been in Virginia?" She was in a chair she had stolen from another desk and sat next to me. I sat with my elbow on the desk and my chin resting on the palm of my hand as I looked at her. "A little over a week now. I just finished unpacking my things at my apartment a day ago." I found that if I elaborated on my answers she had less questions to ask. Not that I didn't enjoy her company, quite the contrary, I really enjoyed her taking the time to learn more about me. I had really started to warm up to her. It's just that I did have paperwork to finish up, signing some documents to say that the transfer had been successful, and I didn't want to have anything start piling up on the first day.

"You really haven't had much time to get out then, have you?" I shook my head and a huge grin split across her face. "Well then, just stick with me and you wont have to worry about anything. I know the best places to have a good time in this town!" She chirped and I laughed.

_I'm not sure if I'll be taking you up on that offer any time soon, though._

I'm not anti-social, don't get me wrong I love to go out as much as the next person, but I'd be a liar if I said that I didn't love my time to myself. There's nothing wrong with enjoying the silence of a good book or spending some time on the Internet. Everything in moderation though, I suppose.

"Do you have any siblings?" I was surprised it had taken her this long to get to that question.

"Yes, I have two siblings. A sister and a baby brother. My sister is 20 and my brother is 7." I can't tell you how many times I've given that same rehearsed answer to someone. Penelope looked a little shocked at this. I didn't blame her. "Wow, that much of an age gap?" I had to chuckle at this, it was a statement I often got when people found out how old my little brother was. "Yes, my mother had me when she was young. Her and my father got married right after she had me. They waited until they were both out of college before they had my sister. Then right before I went to college myself they decided to have my brother. Don't ask me why, I'll never know. But my father had always wanted to have at least one boy in the family besides himself, so I guess he got his wish."

"So then how old are you?" I couldn't imagine why she was so interested in me, but I didn't bother to question it. Curiosity did kill the cat. "25 as of last week." I responded and for a second it almost looked like Garcia's eyes gleamed. When I did a double-take, however, whatever I had seen was gone.

"Well, our boy genius will be happy to have someone else on the team his age!" She paused for a moment and began to look suspicious. "You aren't another walking encyclopedia, are you?" I blinked, confused by her statement. "What?"

"The last thing we need is to have two brainiacs debating on the meaning of life and what medieval torture method was the most effective everyday." She explained. I had to seriously wonder if this had ever been a problem previous to my arrival, but I laughed all the same and shook my head. "No, you don't have to worry. I'd say I'm of pretty average intelligence." She seemed relieved to hear that answer. "Good!"

"Where is this Mr. Spencer Reid anyways?" I had to ask. If I was going to be hearing so much about how insanely smart he is then I at least wanted to meet the guy.

"Doctor." She said as if she were correcting me. I looked confused and she smiled again. "_Dr._ Spencer Reid." She put an emphasis on the doctor."He's a doctor?" I was only becoming more confused by the second. When she saw my face I knew she was trying to hold back her laughter. "Well, not exactly. He's a doctor in the sense that he has doctorates in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering."

I looked at her blankly for a while before I burst out laughing. "I thought you said he was my age! There's no way someone my age has doctorates in that many fields!" She shook her head with a serious face. "I already told you, he's a genius." She crossed her arms as if to say "that's that" and smiled.

"As for where he is, he _should_ be back here any minute now. He just finished up the paperwork from the last case we had in Chula Vista, California and because one of the persons involved in the case was in the witness protection program they had asked him to hand-deliver it to them, just to be safe. He called Derek a while ago to say he would be here soon."

The short ring of the elevator announcing its arrival at the floor brought us both out of our conversation. I turned around and craned my neck to see around the people in front of us while Penelope looked up.

The doors opened and I cursed under my breath when a small group of people chatting decided they wanted to stop directly in my line of sight to converse amongst themselves. The only thing I could see was the doors shutting after a pause where I assumed the passenger of the elevator stepped out.

I glanced back to see Penelope standing, most likely to see over the little crowd. The look on her face said it all, somewhere between a beam and a smirk. "Spencer!" She shouted and I flinched slightly, feeling a little embarrassed for some reason. I turned back to see the group having dispersed and a young man looking up from a yellow piece of paper in his hands to Penelope, surprised. He smiled awkwardly at first and gave her a half-wave before he glanced over at me. I could tell he was curious from the look on his face, but he didn't get a chance to come any closer to us.

"Hey, kid!" Morgan's voice cut through the floor and I broke eye contact with the newly-arrived Spencer Reid to see him jogging lightly from the other side of the office to him.

It was impossible to tell what the two were saying when they were close enough to speak, but their body language told me they were quite comfortable with each other's presence. They were both smiling and I watched as Reid handed the paper to Morgan who, in return, seemed to thank him for it.

I heard what sounded like a long sigh from behind me and I looked back, noticing the shift in emotion from Penelope. She now had her hands on her hips and an exasperated look on her face. She mumbled something under her breath, I was only able to make out that she was scolding Derek Morgan from the way she hissed out his name like a mother upset with her child. Turning my head back I noticed the two glance over to me and Garcia and Spencer's head incline slightly. Morgan said something quickly before turning and making a B line towards the two of us with Reid at his heels.

I was surprised at how quickly they were able to make it from the elevator to my desk with how many people were bustling around. As they approached I was able to get a better look at this so-called "genius".

I wasn't unimpressed, but neither was I at a loss of words. I suppose the only way to describe him would be different than I expected. His brown coat was open to reveal a simple coal-colored vest with a button-up shirt beneath that and a tie tucked under the vest, a gray scarf hung loosely around his neck. His brown hair looked a little messy, most likely from walking outside in the wind for too long, and his pants looked slightly wrinkled. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Morgan made it to us first and he nodded his head in salutations. He looked about ready to say something when Penelope cut him off. "Finally, you're back! We were almost worried you weren't going to make it back until tomorrow." Reid looked a little taken-back at this greeting and he began to grin sheepishly.

"Sorry about that. I made a wrong turn on the way back so it took me longer than I had expected." He shrugged slightly at her and although she looked skeptical she let it go. He shifted his gaze from her to me and I stood from my seat. Garcia looked as though she had just remembered why she had wanted Spencer over here in the first place and she began to grin. "Spencer, I'd like to introduce you to the newest member of the team." She gestured to me and he immediately removed a hand from his pocket and extended it.

"Spencer Reid." He said after I took his hand and began to shake it while inclining his head slightly. "Marie Fischer." I responded, mirroring the tilt of his head before releasing his hand. I saw his eyes shift from me to my desk and then back up, only to do a double-take. "You like puzzles?" He asked suddenly. From the corner of my eye I could see Morgan and Penelope exchange glances. I looked over at my desk to the two brain-teasers I kept on it.

One was fairly small and made out of metal. It was in the shape of an octagon and it looked possible to separate it into four equal parts with a square center piece. The sides were labeled N, E, S, W clockwise, like a compass. The metal looked old and weathered. The other was obviously a Japanese puzzle box, the top of which was beautifully painted with the scene of a mountain surrounded by clouds. The sides of the box had a repeating star-like pattern made up of triangles. The paint on it was mute and faded slightly, but the box itself was in good condition.

Turning my gaze back to the man in front of me I nodded. "Yeah, you too?" I never got a verbal response, he merely move around me to my desk and looked down at them. I watched him look between the two as if he was trying to figure out which one would be more of a challenge. After a moment he reached down and his hand touched the metal puzzle before he stopped. He seemed to think over his decision for a moment before changing his mind. He lifted his hand and moved it to the Japanese puzzle box, picking it up gently. He gripped it with both hands and turned back to the three of us while staring down and it. "Would you mind if I gave it a try?" He asked, looking up from the box to me.

I raised an eyebrow at this before shaking my head. "Not at all, be my guest." He seemed to recognize the skepticism in my voice and look, but it only made him grin and look more sure of himself.

_That's a 42 step Japanese puzzle box that my mother gave to me when I was sixteen, and to this day I still have trouble with it. Even if he is a genius he's going to find this one difficult._

I crossed my arms and he turned his attention back to the box in his hands. First he brought it up to eye-level, examining every inch of the box. He then brought it to his ear, shaking it very lightly and listening to it. There was a soft sound of something moving within the box and he took note of it. I looked back to Penelope and Derek, who were standing directly behind me and I gave them a questioning look which they returned with similar amused ones. Spencer brought the box back down in front of him and placed both hands on either side. Then very slowly his used both his index fingers to shift a panel on either side of the box at the same time away from him. I raised another eyebrow at this, he had already figured out the first step.

Next his right hand moved to the bottom of the box and moved it along the smooth wood until he found what he was looking for. He slid the panel to the right and moved a panel on the left side of the box downwards at the same time before pulling another panel on the left in towards himself. He continued this for a while at an steady speed, pulling and pushing panels on the box left and right, forward and back, until the box emitted a soft clicking sound. He then brought his hand up to the top of the box and I watched with an astounded look on my face as he carefully slide the top to the left, revealing the small compartment inside that held a silver necklace in the shape of a heart with small, intricate designs engraved into the surface.

I watched him observe the necklace with great interest for a minute before he looked up. "42 steps, huh? I don't think I've ever tried one with so many before." He held the box out for me to take. As I took it from his hands it took everything I had not to stand there looking stupid with my mouth hanging open.

_Not only did he figure it out in such a short time, but he even kept count of the number of steps it took._

"That was... Hell, that was awesome." I admitted. He moved his hands back into his pockets before giving me the same sheepish grin as before. "Thanks."

Before anything else could be said, Hotch's voice cut through the air. We turned to look a little ways behind us, towards the offices, only to see Hotchner standing with Rossi. "You got something?" Hotch questioned Rossi, who was looking at the papers in his hand with a confused expression. "Not sure. It's from an old storage unit." This sparked my curiosity immediately. What would be in a storage unit that had to do with Rossi?

"Case agent from the Philly field office sent it to me." Rossi continued, shuffling through the packet of papers he had been faxed. I saw movement from the corner of my eye and glanced to my side only to see Spencer making his way to the two men.

At that point I had two options. I could either stay with Penelope and Morgan and forget about the papers, or I could let my curiosity get the better of me and follow Spencer, risking the possibility of being deemed intrusive on my first day. The second option sounded a great deal more appealing to me, and I found myself at the heels of the "boy genius" before I even had time to process my decision.

"Somebody you know?" Hotch took the papers from Rossi, examining them himself. "She knows me. You know." Rossi shrugged slightly and Hotchner nodded understandingly. "A fan." It's possible that he meant it as a question, but it came off as a statement. Rossi nodded absentmindedly. "Your world's a very crowded place, isn't it?" Rossi glanced up and gave a little smirk. "You'd be surprised."

Spencer made his way behind Hotch's left shoulder while I took my place at his right shoulder. I couldn't help but feel like a teenage girl in school trying to read a note someone had passed to the kid in front of me. Hotch pulled out what looked to be some sort of diagram and I attempted to look more closely.

"This is detailed." Hotch commented. He didn't seem bothered by either of our appearances so I relaxed. Spencer had a serious look on his face that I could only assume meant he was thinking intensely about what he was reading. It almost looked like he was in a world of his own, which I didn't entirely doubt he wasn't. "Future tense. They're fantasies." He tilted his head while explaining. "That agent thinks it could be more than that." Rossi responded, turning his attention to Reid.

"There's more of this?" Hotch raised his eyebrows at Rossi, who nodded. "A few boxes in the field office." I was surprised. From what I had read in the notes these were some sick "_fantasies_" that someone had and there were _boxes _more?

_Jesus, some people are really messed up._

I brought my attention from the papers back up to Rossi. "I'd like to drive up there, look at the rest of the material, make a judgment from that." Although it didn't sound like it, I could tell that he was asking for Hotch's permission. Hotch looked at the packet, then over his shoulder to first Reid then myself, before turning his stern gaze back at Rossi. "Take Reid and Fischer with you."

Spencer's face immediately lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Road trip- nice! I've got books on tape with Peter Coyote reading the entire _Foundation_ trilogy!" He rushed to his desk and nearly tore open the top drawer.

I, however, was more surprised than excited. "M-me?" I stuttered out, not even trying to hide my shock. It was only my first day and he wanted me to go with them all the way to Philadelphia on a potential case? Hotch looked at me and I saw amusement flash across his face. "I'd like to see how well you can handle yourself on the field. You don't have any objections, do you?" His voice was the same strict and commanding tone he always used, but the humor I saw on his face made me smile and visibly calmed my nerves down. "Of course not." He smiled, this time the gesture not looking so foreign on him as it had before. He nodded and passed by me, making his way to the stairs and heading back into his office.

I looked back at Rossi, who smiled. I returned it with one of my own and put my hands into the pockets of my pants.

_What did I just get myself into?_


	4. Remember the Victims

Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Criminal Minds.

Notes: Thanks to everyone who gives reviews, favorites this story, and everyone who puts this story on story alert! This chapter is a lot longer than the other chapters, but I had to make it that way. I wanted to do the entire crime and solution all in one chapter. Once this really gets going my hope is to start thinking up my own crimes for the team to solve, and eventually the real plot for my story will set it. If everything works out I would like to make most of the chapters switch off on which guy they focus on. So one would be mainly about Hotch, then the next would focus on Reid. The story hasn't been paying nearly as much attention to Hotch as I would like it to, but it's difficult with his divorce to Hailey starting right about this time. That relationship is going to be a little harder to get into, but never fear! Even if it takes me forever, I _will_ make everything work out! I apologize in advance for all the time skips in this chapter. I wanted it to be as true to the episode as possible, and so I had to do a few time skips to make it all work out. I just hope it all makes sense to you guys! Sorry, too, if you find this one a little boring. I needed to give her a little bit of experience on the job before anything huge starts happening. The next chapter will hopefully be a break from the crime solving so that we can have a little character development. Reviews and constructive criticism greatly appreciated! As always, enjoy.

* * *

**"All things truly wicked start from innocence." -**Ernest Hemingway

**-Chapter 4-**

**Remember the Victims**

**

* * *

**

Do you know how long it takes to sort through eight boxes _filled_ with potential evidence? Neither do I, but I assume it's somewhere between a few hours and a week. At least that's how long I could guess I had been locked up in that windowless room without any sense of time, sorting through what could only be described as something close to a collection of Satan's worst fantasies. What I do know, however, is that I have come to hate the feeling of fluorescent lights hanging just above my head.

Rossi had asked both Reid and I if we had found any evidence to suggest that these fantasies had ever become a reality at any point, to which we both told him we had not. I was finishing up on the last packet from the boxes I was to search through, it was a schematic for another torture device our mystery man had invented, when Rossi burst into the room.

He had left to tell agent Morris-or, excuse me, _Jill_, about our decision to return back to Virginia. She was a stubborn women who had an irritating air about her all the time. Having found no reason to believe these violent crimes had ever actually been committed, there was no reason for us to remain here. He had told Reid and myself to finish up our boxes when he left, just in case. Reid had finished scanning his papers long before I had, and I had begun to feel extremely self-conscious when the room had gone silent of his rapid flipping through pages. Needless to say, I was almost relieved when Rossi's entrance created some noise.

"I just called the rest of the team." He stated as he made his way over to the table he had been using before he had left, grabbing some of the papers on it and putting them back into their respective boxes. Spencer and I turned at this and although I couldn't see his face, I could tell he was just as confused as I was. "What do you mean? I thought we were leaving because there wasn't any solid evidence." Rossi shook his head at him. "It seems that agent Morris was holding out on us. Apparently they also found a lock of hair in the storage unit."

The look on his face was nearly indefinable. If I were to try, I'd say it was something between skepticism and worry. "Hair? Are we sure it wasn't just from the unsub?" I had to ask, if this man had actually kept hair from a women this was likely to be serious The collecting of integuments like hair is more than enough evidence to suggest this man was a not only a sexual predator but that he had likely enacted at least some, if not all, of what he had written.

Rossi nodded slowly. "It looked to be from a young woman with long, blond hair." He didn't have to say anything more. I suddenly felt a little sick to my stomach, thinking that some poor girl had to go through all this. "We'll wait for everyone to get here before we do anything else." Reid and I both nodded silently. I turned back to my table and began to sort through and put everything away, I had my real first case on my hands.

* * *

After everyone arrived we had a meeting to brief everyone on what we had found. I was almost ecstatic when Hotch told me to go with Prentiss and Morgan to look at the storage unit, spending hours in a dark room had made me itching to see sunlight again.

The storage unit was filled with furniture and boxes. Surprisingly, there was nothing really out of the ordinary. Drawings from his childhood suggested that he had a pleasant life up until something had happened to his mother. Whether that something was her death or just her leaving wasn't clear, but what was clear was the fact that it probably hadn't changed him for the better. Morgan and Prentiss had a bet going, the person with the best insights on the unsub buys the loser lunch. I had been offered to join their bet, but declined. I didn't want to have to buy lunch for both of them. I'm not made of money.

From the evidence in the unit we had determined that he was blond and Caucasian, nothing particularly substantial or insightful about him. That is, until Morgan lifted something out of a box. "Look at these." He held up a few items of clothing. "Dresses." I made my way over to him, taking one of the dresses from his hands. Prentiss grabbed one from the box and examined it. "They're different sizes." She observed, looking at the tag on the dress in her hands. Morgan shook his head. "They _were_ different sizes." He corrected her. "They've been altered."

So our unsub was a cross-dresser. I was very happy that I had not taken that bet. "Looks like I'm buying lunch." Prentiss admitted defeat.

* * *

Upon returning to the headquarters we immediately went to the conference room where everyone was waiting. Hotch explained the torture behavior that Reid had identified by examining the journals again. Apparently he used an electrical currents to shock and burn his victims. When Emily asked if her clothes had been found J.J. seemed surprised. "No, how did you know?" Emily explained what we had found at the storage unit. While this bit of information seemed to interest almost everyone there, Rossi seemed to have another question on his mind. "What about her hair? Was any of it missing?" J.J. shook her head. "Not that was reported."

I turned to look at Rossi, but instead found myself looking at agent Morris. She seemed suddenly uncomfortable as she smoothed down the back of her hair, staring at the ground. I didn't both to question it though, I'm sure the others had seen it. Especially Rossi, who seemed to be watching Jill like a hawk.

"J.J., contact Garcia and widen the victim search. Rossi, Fischer and I will go visit the crime scene." With that he was already heading out the door. I stood from my seat without a word, following after the two men.

* * *

As we approached the door I grabbed my badge from my pocket. From inside we could hear the voices of a man and what sounded to be a little boy. When Hotch rang the doorbell we could hear the man say something about waiting a second so he could get the door. I looked over to see Hotch straighten out his tie, Rossi already had his badge out like me. They both looked so intimidating, standing there in their suits, it wasn't a surprise when the man opening the door looked a little taken-back.

"Mr. Overholt?" He brought his hand into the pocket in his coat and pulled out his own badge. "I'm Agent Hotchner. These are Agents Rossi and Fischer." He gestured to the two of us. "We're with the FBI." I didn't blame the man for looking surprised. "FBI?"

Putting away our badges, Rossi cleared his throat. "You've lived in this house for four years, correct?" Mr. Overholt did nothing but nod. "I assume disclosures were made at the time of sale about what occurred here?" Again he nodded, this time glancing behind him before looking back at us.

"Look, my son doesn't know about that. I'd prefer to keep it that way." Hotch nodded understandingly. "Of course, we understand. We'll be discreet. We just need to take a look at your cellar." He reassured him. Overholt sighed and agreed, no even bothering to close the door before showing us the way to the cellar. He proceeded to explain that he hadn't touched it since he moved in, that it was more of a nuisance than anything. Apparently the electrical was 'messed up' and when it rained it would get water in it.

He gave the doors to the cellar a sharp tug and they made an awful screeching noise when they opened. The hinges were rusted and the paint was chipped and worn off in places. "There you go. Hope you guys don't mind if I stay up here." We looked down into the pitch-black hole in the ground and Rossi grabbed a flashlight he had brought just in case. I looked at the man and smiled. "We'll try not to take too long." He returned the smile and nodded.

Rossi was first to go down, followed by Hotch, then finally myself. The light from outside allowed us to see the first few stairs, and Rossi's flashlight lit the rest. "So..." Rossi began as we descended the stairs. He attempted to turn on the switch that was at the bottom of the steps, but gave up when the very faint light flickered on and off. Overholt hadn't been lying when he said there were electrical problems down here. "He's done with the tour of the main house. Before he goes, he asked the Realtor to see the cellar, and _boom_." He tried to piece together the last few moments of our victim's life. Hotch was examining a file as he walked down. "Contusion on the back of her head says he surprised her. He incapacitated her with a blunt object." Hotch helped to solidify Rossi's theory.

"Thick walls." Rossi observed, using his flashlight to look around. "Neighbors are few and far-between. He can make her scream as loud as he wants to." I felt a shiver go down my spine.

_I can't imagine the pain and fear this girl must have had to go through before dieing._

I began to wander around the room, looking at the shelves and items. The dust down there was thick, and I didn't doubt there was mold growing around too. "Rope burns on her wrist. He probably suspended her." Hotch looked up from the file and noticed something. "Here." He pointed at the ceiling and Rossi shined his flashlight up. "Like in his drawings. And then he applied the current and watched her whole body spasm." Hotch finished, closing the file. I continued to search for something, anything that could help us.

"He makes her dance." Rossi said with a hint of disgust. "But where does he get the juice? Cattle prod? Taser?" Hotch shrugged and shook his head. "Contact wounds don't conform to that." At that moment I noticed something close to the ground. I crouched down to get a better look, reaching my hand out to touch it lightly.

I cleared my throat suddenly. "Hey, guys? You might wanna take a look at this." They both looked over and Rossi moved his light to shine on me. "What is it?" Hotch asked. Rossi walked up and crouched by my side. "This outlet's been tampered with." I told them, moving the covering of the outlet to show Rossi. "Careful." Hotch commanded, walking closer. I took my hand away from the outlet and looked up at him. Rossi, however, ignored his warning and reached his hand in the the socket. I held my breath as he dug around in there. One wrong move and we'd have a very crispy Rossi to deal with. After a moment he yanked a few cords out, taking his hand away.

"Jerry-rigged." He concluded as he looked at the cords. "Clamp is still there." We both stood up and Hotch sighed. "He didn't have to use a taser. He pulled power from the house." Rossi nodded at Hotch. "Handy guy."

Hotch looked over to me as I brushed the dust and dirt from my pants. "Good work, Fischer." I couldn't help it when the sides of my mouth turned upwards. There wasn't much I knew about Aaron Hotchner, but I knew enough to know that he wasn't one to just throw out praise and complements without meaning.

* * *

When we got back from visiting the cellar we were greeted with some news from Garcia. Unfortunately it wasn't exactly the news we were hoping to hear.

"Three females, age 31-38, discovered off freeways in Maryland, Jersey, and New York." Penelope read off of her computer screens in front of her. "All naked, burn wounds consistent with the signature." Great, that meant we not only had a killer on our hands, but he was a _serial _killer. He had disposed of the bodies in different states so that he could avoid detection. When Hotch asked when the bodies were discovered she told him that it was between '02 and spring of '03. Even better, he had four kills by the age of 30.

"Alright." Hotch said after a long moment. "I think we have enough information to give the profile. Thanks Garcia." And with that he hung up on her.

* * *

"With four known victims-" Hotch began. "-we should start by re-interviewing friends and family. We're looking for a white male in his 30s to 40s. And with his knowledge of circuitry and wiring, we think that he's either an electrician or an electrical engineer." The room was filled with many law enforcement officers, ready and waiting to hear the profile we would give them of the man they were supposed to track down and bring to justice.

Next, Rossi chimed in. "It's a job that may give him access to a victim's home or workplace. The opportunity to observe his targets." I saw a couple people scratch notes into the notepads they had in their hands.

Prentiss continued where Rossi had left off. "They're attractive, professional women. He sees them as strong, righteous, unobtainable. So he seeks to tear them down. To reduce them to base sexual creatures-" I don't know whether she was pausing to catch her breath or to add dramatic effect, but either way she paused. "-and punish them."

Although I was new to all this profile-presenting business, I couldn't help myself. I started talking when Emily finished. "He's a true sexual sadist. A typology we refer to as anger-excitation, meaning he becomes sexually aroused by the suffering of his victims."

Hotch looked out at the group of men and women. "Killing these women is an afterthought. Their pain is what he's after, and he takes his time to exact maximum stimulation."

From the front of the group a man spoke up. "What about his trophies? He keeps their clothes, right?" He was probably in his 30s and had thick glasses on his face. He had a file in his hands that he paged through every now and then.

Prentiss nodded. "Yes. We believe he's using them for rehearsal fantasies. By dressing as his victims he can relive the torture." The man who had asked the question looked a little disgusted at what she had just said.

I knew that he was almost sorry for asking, but it was important information that everyone needed to know. "It's during this time that he most likely pleasures himself in order to reinforce his association between suffering and gratification." A few more repulsed looks came from the audience when I told them that.

Hotch was unfazed by their reaction. He continued to give the profile as if he was talking about a normal person he had known all his life. It was obvious that he has been doing this job far longer than most of the other members of the team. "And when he becomes dissatisfied with this he seeks out a new victim."

Rossi's seniority in this field was also apparent. It was obvious his years in retirement hadn't effected him much. "Keep in mind, he's been doing this for a long time, and he's been thinking about doing it most of his life. He'll continue to evolve, finding new ways of challenging himself, increasing his stimulation threshold. There are no boundaries for this man." Although there was more we could have spoken about we never got the chance. At that moment J.J. rushed in through the door.

"Hotch." Her voice sounded urgent and Hotchner seemed to understand what she meant when she motioned to him. Hotch looked back at the three of us and we were following him out the door in an instant. J.J. lead us to the next room where a TV was switched on. The screen had an image of Agent Morris on it. She was speaking to what looked to be reporters for a news channel.

"-May well have continued to operate without our knowledge." From what I could piece together agent Morris had decided she would be taking the media into her own hands. All at once the air in the room turned from confused to irritated. Did she even know what she was doing? And without getting permission from us first! I knew the second I met her that she was headstrong and driven, but I never thought it would come to _this. _Hotch seemed to be the most frustrated of all. "Did you know about about this?" He asked Rossi, who merely shook his head.

After the conference with the press was done he was out of the room in a second, off to find Agent Morris, I guess. J.J. and Rossi left a moment later after Hotch. A minute passed by with them being gone before I turned to Prentiss. At the exact same moment we both let out a breath of air I don't think either of us knew we were holding. We both gave light chuckles. "We should go find Morgan and Reid." She suggested when the lingering tension in the room subsided. "We could all go find a place to eat." I happily agreed. The thought of getting out of this building for a little while was too good to pass up, there was just something I disliked about being there.

* * *

We found a nice little diner not too far from the headquarters. It hadn't taken too long to find the two boys, they had been in an empty conference room we had set up with white-boards, maps, and anything else the team would need. They were both happy to come along, I knew they were just as eager as I was to leave the headquarters.

"I have no doubt that she's highly capable. I'm just- I'm saying that I find her excitement level at the prospect of finding more bodies somewhat unsettling." I sat next to Emily in the booth we had chosen and Spencer and Derek were sitting across from us. We had made conversation about the case when we were all settled in our seats and the topic had slowly shifted to Ms. Morris after a while. Spencer had been the first to give his opinion of her.

"Yeah, J.J. said she was making up names for the killer." Morgan told us as he accepted his meal he had ordered from the waitress, thanking her. I noticed Prentiss in the corner of my eye crack a smile. "And yet, if she was a man you'd say she had balls." She teased him, resting her chin in the palm of her hand as her elbow sat on the tabletop. "Oh, don't even go there. This is not a gender thing." Morgan shot back defensively, but he knew that Prentiss was only poking fun at him... Kind of. She laughed. "_Right_." Sarcasm was dripping from her voice.

I rolled my eyes at their childish teasing but smiled all the same. "Alright. Let's get back to Reid's map." Spencer, who had been mostly silent up until then, perked up. He was always eager to share his ideas and knowledge with someone, and this was no exception. He took a knife from the table to use as a pointer.

"Alright, we already know that a killer won't normally travel far to abduct his victims." He moved the knife and his other hand to outline the area where the killings had taken place. They were spread apart further than what you usually saw with killers. "But this one's gone to great lengths to spread out his abduction and disposal sights." It makes sense, of course. The further apart the bodies are disposed of, the less likely the police are going to connect the multiple killings together.

"So the sites are irrelevant to the geographical profile?" Prentiss asked him. It all made sense, sure, but it also meant that we would have no idea where our killer could possibly be hiding. Reid nodded without glancing up. "The only location I can attach a real meaning to is the storage unit."

_Great_.

"Four victims and we got squat." Morgan concluded, setting down his fork and leaning back. It looked like he had lost his appetite. This time Spencer looked up. "For years he's gone unchecked. I think it's only a matter of time before he grows comfortable and starts killing closer to home."

_More good news._

The sarcastic remarks in my mind caused me to sigh. The three of them glanced over at me and I crossed my arms and frowned. "Unfortunately, that only helps us if there's a fresh kill." The sad and harsh truth. Without another body we had no clue as to where this man could possibly be.

Derek shook his head sadly. "So there's a woman out there right now who has to die so we can do our job." It was a statement. Some poor woman was going to have to lose her life to help us, and she'd never even see in coming. It wasn't just Morgan now, we all had lost our appetites.

* * *

The next morning was spent listening to parents, boyfriends, fiancés, and best friends tell their stories of how their daughters, lovers, and companions never came home one day. It was actually horrifying how many kidnappings in this area seemed to have gone unsolved. The press conference Jill had given yesterday seemed to have stirred up some old memories for these people. The only break we got was when agent Morris called us away to listen to something. Apparently someone had called the tip line and said they saw someone burying a body in a field.

We listened to the recording carefully. It was obvious by the way the caller referred to the body as "it" and "bleeder" that our killer had actually been the one tipping us off. We wasted no time in dispatching an entire team of officers and medical examiners to mile marker 115 on the eastbound of I-76, the exact place the killer had told us we would find the body. Hotch sent Morgan and Prentiss out to get the details on what was found. Apparently they discovered two bodies at the site instead of just one. Both had been burned the same as the other victims, and the teeth were in fair enough shape to be able to give us a positive ID. Of course, we would have to wait for those results to come back, but that wouldn't take long. Not with Penelope Garcia working for us.

I was examining the timeline we had drawn up on a large white-board when Morgan got the call from Penelope. He put it on speaker so we could all hear. "Mimi Adams and Sara Coswell. You'll find them in the missing person files we flagged as possible victims." Garcia's voice came through the phone loud and clear. "Thanks, baby girl. We're on it." Morgan told her, about to hang up. I hadn't been working for the BAU for long, but already I knew that the two of them were closer to each other than anyone else on the team. Their exchanges always made me smile. "Wait, there's something else. Both women were reported missing four months ago... on the same day."

That caught the groups attention quickly. "He's doing doubles." Rossi said. "The killer got bored, upped the stakes, and did two women in one day." I grimaced. This was all a game to him. "So he kills without any challenge from the authorities for years and after a while he gets bored of that, needs a bigger fix." I theorized. Morgan nodded in agreement with me. "So he starts doing two a day."

"Four months later he still can't get off, so he opens his storage locker for us." Rossi finished and glanced down at the files in his hands of the victims. At that moment a knock came at the door. "Jill." Everyone shifted their gaze to the doorway to see a young man standing there in a gray suit. "_Chronicle _holding on line two." We all looked back at Agent Morris who shifted uncomfortably. She cleared her throat after a moment and looked up. "Yeah, I'll take that in my office."

I knew she could feel our eyes on her as she shuffled to the door. She smoothed the back of her hair down and I took note. Was it an old habit she had? "Planning another press conference?" Morgan's comment sounded cold and harsh. She hesitated at the door for a moment, gripping the wood frame of the doorway, before continuing on her way out like nothing had been said.

* * *

It didn't take long for the unit to come together in the conference room. J.J. and Prentiss were the only two missing. J.J. was the first of the two to arrive. "I heard we got ID's on these two bodies."

Spencer was the one who answered her. "Mimi Adams and Sara Coswell." J.J. nodded. She had a picture in her hands that caught my attention. "What's up?" Hotch questioned. It must have caught his attention as well. J.J. lifted up the picture and showed us the other side. On it was a woman with light blond hair, smiling. "This woman's husband came in before. She fits the victim type. I thought maybe..." She trailed off.

"If you have her DNA, you might want to check it against the hair." I suggested. It would be nice to figure out who the hair that had started this whole thing belonged to. J.J. looked confused for a moment. "What hair?"

"From the storage unit. Agent Morris found it early on. It's the same color so it might-" Spencer began, but he was cut off by Rossi. "It wont match." His comment was forceful and almost sounded like he was trying to get us to drop the subject. Spencer seemed a little taken-back at the abrupt statement, but continued. "I know it's probably a long shot, but we should still-" Again he was cut off by Rossi. "She didn't get the hair from the unit." The room fell silent.

Hotch was the first to speak up and voice the question we all were asking ourselves. "She lied?" His dislike for this woman was evident in the way he spoke, and it was only growing. "When were you going to tell us?"

Rossi tried to play it off like Hotch was overreacting. "Whatever she did to get us here, we're here now." He shrugged. Hotch looked at him incredulously. "It's unacceptable behavior. Why do you keep defending her?" His voice was slowly raising in volume along with his frustration. At that moment I made a vow to myself that I would do my best to never make Hotch angry. The very thought of being on the other side of that anger was enough to make you feel small and insignificant.

Rossi seemed to be the only one in the room unaffected by Hotch's rising annoyance. "Because I know what she is." Hotch stayed silent, waiting for him to finish. "She's me 20 years ago." When Hotch spoke again his voice was low and even more frightening than before. "She is _nothing _like you, Dave."

Rossi rolled his eyes. "Come on, Hotch, I know what people think. I took serial killers mass market. Now everyone knows their names, but not the victims, _right_?" Hotch was unable to say anything. Rossi had a point, however much he wanted to deny it. "Somewhere along the line, I put myself first. I admit it. I can't go back and change it. But it's not too late for her." I was completely and utterly amazed at how Rossi was able to calm Hotchner's temper towards him.

Suddenly Prentiss was at the door. "Missing persons flagged a report that was just filed." She sounded like she was out of breath. She probably got here as fast as she could. Hotch let his gaze switch from Rossi to Emily after a long moment. "A possible victim?" He finally asked.

She flipped open the file she had in her hands and nodded. "The subject's car was found idling at a stop sign, and there was some damage to the back end." This couldn't be good. "Sounds like a bump and grab." Spencer threw in, Hotch ignored him. "Did she fit his profile career, age-wise?" Emily continued to scan through the file. "Katrina Townsley, 34. A reporter at the _Chronicle_." She read off.

Rossi looked up at her, something close to concern written on his face. "_Chronicle_?" And with that he was on his feet, out of the room and heading down the hall.

* * *

After going to Jill's office and finding her gone and a note from the killer on her computer, Rossi concluded that our murderer was looking to make agent Morris his last victim. At which point, Rossi and Spencer took off to find Morris using the GPS on her cellphone to track her down. I was still at the headquarters with everyone else, waiting for instructions from Hotch on what he wanted us to do next. I sat in the conference room, looking at the pictures of victims we had displayed on a large board for the team to see. I was lost in my own thoughts as I sat there, so you can imagine how much I jumped when my cellphone suddenly went off, its volume set to high. I could feel my heart beating rapidly from the surprise as I fumbled to get it out of my pocket.

I examined the number on the screen with confusion. I didn't have it registered, but it looked vaguely familiar. I bit my lower lip and pressed 'answer' on the screen and lifted the phone up to my ear. "Hello?" From the other end came a male voice that I recognized immediately. "Marie?" My eyebrows raised and I took a seat in the chair I had been sitting in before I was called. "Spencer?" Why was he calling me?

"Yeah, hi." There was a short pause on the other end, as if he was trying to figure out what to say. "Um, sorry. I couldn't get a hold of Prentiss, her phone might be off, and I remembered seeing yours written down on a file back at the office, and I just thought-" He was rambling, so I cut him off with a laugh. It's not like I minded, the whole team would have to get my number at some point so they could contact me. It was actually kind of funny how he felt the need to explain himself, like he had done something wrong. "It's fine, Spencer." I reassured him. "What's up?" Spencer seemed relieved at my response, his voice sounding much less rushed and embarrassed the next time he spoke.

"Uh, well, we just found Jill's phone on the ground, near her car. We have people searching the immediate area, but it looks like he already got to her. We're in a parking garage north of center city." I cursed under my breath. "I'll tell Hotch."

"Thanks. Rossi and I will be back once we finish up here." I nodded before I remembered he couldn't see me. "Alright, I'll tell him that too. Bye." I was walking out the door before I even hung up. "Bye." And with that the line went dead. I ended the call and put my phone back into my pocket, looking up just in time to see Morgan and Hotch walking towards me. "I just talked to Spencer." I said as I approached them. "They found her cellphone. It was by her car on the ground." I began to relay Reid's message. "On the ground?" Hotch asked, he knew what that most likely meant. "They're at a parking garage north of center city." I finished and Hotch looked concerned. I shifted my weight from my right foot to the left. "He said they'll be back when they finish up." Hotchner sighed and nodded.

"We just got a call from Garcia. The killer sent the e-mail from an internet cafe just outside Germantown." I nodded back, waiting for the instructions I knew he was ready to give. "Go find Prentiss, when Reid gets back we'll leave."

"Right." I didn't waste any time in my search and quickly made my way through the building, looking through the windows into offices. A woman's life depended on us working quickly and efficiently, and even if I wasn't too fond of her I still was going to do everything to make sure we got her back alive. I found Emily without much trouble, she was walking down the hallway when I nearly ran into her. I explained what we had found as the two of us made our way back to Hotch and Morgan.

* * *

This second Rossi and Reid were back we left. We needed Spencer to figure out an area where the killer might be hiding. With the places we now knew he was able to come up with three addresses that were likely to be within his comfort zone. We sat outside of the cafe while Hotch went inside to question the employees, hopefully someone had seen the man we were looking for.

When Spencer finished connecting the points we found there was a 4-mile radius in which the killer could be hiding. Morgan took out his phone, dialing the number for Penelope. He told her to bring up the city-wide list we generated for electricians, power company workers, and electrical engineers. The list of names was in the thousands so Morgan needed to narrow it down. He gave her the three addresses Reid was using to create the comfort zone and she added that to the search. Unfortunately there were still dozens. Hotch finished up with his questioning inside and returned to us.

"Is that Garcia?" He asked Morgan, who told him yes before putting her on speaker. "Search DMV records." Hotch said into the phone. "The manager thought he saw him leave in a white van." Garcia plugged the new information into the search and waited a moment for the results. Suddenly, she gasped. "Yahtzee."

We were already getting into the cars before she could read off the address.

* * *

To say I wasn't disappointed when Hotch and Rossi were the only two who would be going in with the rest of the squad would be lying. The two quickly threw on their bullet-proof vests and grabbed their guns. They followed in back. I understood why they only wanted a few to go inside, too many would be counterproductive, even deadly if things got out of hand. As I stood by the cars parked outside the house I could hear them break down the door, moving into the house. I heard them shouting "FBI" and "Freeze". I took a few steps closer to the house and heard Hotch shouting for a medic, from behind me a few medics rushed into the house. Finally, I heard the faint sound of crying. It was soft, barely noticeable in all the commotion. It was agent Morris. She was safe. She was _alive._

For the second time that day I let out a breath that I didn't realize I was holding.


	5. The Persistence of Memory

Disclaimer: Yeah, no, I own nothing having to do with Criminal Minds.

Notes: Wow, this chapter took a long time to write, I kept getting stuck. This chapter is more just about character development, not very important. Don't worry though, the next chapter will be back to the cases and action. Also, the next chapter will have more Hotch in it, I feel bad for not having as much as I would like of him in this story. I really hope that all the characters seem realistic, and that I didn't go out of character for any of them. I can't tell you how much that bothers me when someone writes about someone doing something out of character. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are very helpful. And thank you so much to everyone who favorites, reviews, and puts this story on story alert! I'm writing this for you guys, so I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

**"Pointless... like giving caviar to an elephant."** -William Faulkner

**-Chapter 5-**

**The Persistence of Memory**

**

* * *

**

I had nearly forgotten the feel of my own, soft bed by the time we made it back to Quantico. The second we were off that plane I was heading for home. It's not that I hadn't had time to sleep, the beds in the hotel were just uncomfortable. My apartment stood only a little ways away from the headquarters and I fumbled to get the keys out of my pocket when I arrived at the door. Sliding the key into the slot and twisting the knob I stepped inside, flipping the switch on to my left to give the place a little light. It wasn't a very large place, but there was no need for it to be.

I didn't have any pictures hanging anywhere. Instead, I had opted to cover the blank space along the walls with book shelves. Unfortunately, I didn't have nearly enough books to fill them, but my mother stepped in and gave me some of hers to fill the holes. There was a couch in front of a medium-sized TV off in what could be assumed as the living room. The kitchen had a darkly-stained table in the middle of it with four chairs pushed in around it. Not that I needed four chairs, I never had guests over. I preferred to go to their place, much less mess to take care of afterwards. I had attempted to hide the washer and dryer behind a screen off in the corner. Not very classy, but it did the job.

I allowed myself to shrug my coat off and let it fall to the ground, tossing my keys on top of it after shutting and locking the door. I then kicked my shoes off, not really caring where they landed. I would pick everything up in the morning. I shuffled over to my phone that sat on the kitchen counter. The red, flashing light alerted me that I had messages on the answering machine. I hit the button, feeling exhausted and made my way to my bedroom while I let it play.

The bedroom wasn't much more exciting than the rest of the apartment. A queen-sized bed sat at the far side of the room, headboard up against the wall. The sheets were a dark red, and the wood of the frame was made from the same dark wood as the table in the kitchen. Besides the bed, the only other thing of interest in the room was the painting that hung above the head of the bed. It was one by Salvador Dali, given to me by my sister as a going-away present. The painting was called _The Disintegration of Persistence of Memory_. A beautiful painting.

I moved into the bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush from the sink and applied toothpaste. "_You have two unheard messages. First unheard message-_" I could still hear the answering machine from the other room as I brushed my teeth. "Marie? It's Sam. Just calling to make sure you're still alive. How's Virginia treating you? Every thing's fine back here." I smiled, knowing that voice right away. It was Samantha Fischer, my younger sister. Of course, we just called her Sam for short. She paused in the recording, as if she was debating on what to say next. "Call me back as soon as you can, there's a lot you're going to have to tell me about, ok? Bye." And with that the message ended. I decided I would try to call her in the morning. It was too late to call her then, even if she was probably still awake.

The machine beeped and the automatic voice came on again. "_End of first message. Second message-"_ I finished brushing my teeth, washing off my face with some water and a towel before going back into the bedroom. I was just taking off my socks when the second message played. It was hard to understand at first. "-'Ello?" It started. The voice sounded young. "Marie, are you there?" From in the background I could hear a voice saying something I couldn't understand. The voice quickly grew in volume, I assumed it was someone walking closer to the person with the phone. "-ake? Jake, what are you doing?" I almost burst out laughing when I realized what was happening. "Jake, who are you talking to?" I recognized the voice to be my mother's. "Marie!" My little brother, Jake, replied. "You know you're not supposed to use the phone without Mommy around." My mother scolded lightly. My mother never got angry, she just scolded. "But... But I wanted to talk to Marie..." I could hear the whine in my baby brother's voice. "Jake, it's late, she probably isn't awake right now. You don't want to wake her up, do you?" My mother asked him. "No!" Jake replied quickly. "Alright, then why don't you say goodbye and we can call her again when she's not sleeping." Jake seemed to like that idea. "Ok!" His voice got closer to the phone again. "Bye-bye, Marie!" I heard the click of the phone and the machine's voice started again. _"End of second mes_sage. _You have no new messages._"

I lifted up the covers of my bed and slid under them, not even bothering to change into pajamas. I had to be at work bright and early tomorrow if I wanted to get done with all the paperwork from the last case at a reasonable time. That's one thing they don't tell you about the job- there's a lot of paperwork. _A lot_. Every time a case was finished everyone in the team had to file reports on it. It wasn't fun, but at least it kept us busy.

I was asleep within seconds.

* * *

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

I groaned and slammed my fist down onto my alarm clock, bringing my hand back to try and rub the sleepiness from my eyes. The alarm went off at the same time every day, with the exception of weekends and days off. 5:35 AM, the bold red numbers flashed, but it felt earlier. Maybe it was because of how little sleep I had gotten. I had slept like a rock, but that was only after I had gotten home at well past one in the morning.

I rolled out of bed with about as much grace as a newborn elephant and stumbled to my bathroom, flipping on the light switch and throwing the shower curtain open before starting the water. As I waited for the shower to heat up I began to peel off my clothing, grabbing a towel and setting it next to the sink so I could grab it when I was done. I stuck my hand under the water to test the temperature and, finding it to be to my liking, I stepped into the shower. I let it calm me down as I slowly felt my drowsiness wash away with the water. I took a deep breath and began to wash myself off at a quick pace, knowing that if I wanted to get to work and get everything done by the end of the day that I would have to pick up the pace.

I finished washing myself and rinsed off the soap, grabbing the knob and twisting it to stop the flow of water when I was done. I stepped out and felt a shiver run down my spine as my feet touched the cold floor. I grabbed the towel, quickly drying off as best as I could before wrapping it around myself and walking back into my room, opening up my closet. I dug through the shirts and pants that were hung up, trying to find what to wear. I decided on a white, fitted button-up shirt with some black pants. Not very exciting, of course, but it was clean and looked professional enough without being uncomfortable. I slipped into my outfit for the day before I returned to the bathroom and finished getting ready, putting on a bit of makeup and drying my hair with a dryer.

When I was done with everything I went to my kitchen and grabbed a box of cereal, filling up a bowl and adding milk. It was the same routine every morning. On the way out of the apartment I grabbed my keys, cellphone and jacket that still lay strewn on the ground where I left them the night before. I threw the jacket on and put my phone into my pocket as I used the keys to lock the door once I was out and then I headed on my way.

* * *

I bounded up the stairs and entered the building, smiling and waving slightly to the security guard that I met on my first day. He returned the smile and nodded as a greeting. As I continued towards the elevators I realized that I had never gotten his name. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as I remembered that he knew my name, but that I hadn't bothered to even try to learn his. I made a mental note to figure it out the next time I got the chance.

When I reached the elevator I pushed the 'up' button and then rocked back on my heels, patiently awaiting it's arrival. I barely even took notice of a figure coming to stand just a little ways to my right until they cleared their throat to speak. "You're here early." I glanced over and smiled, nodding. "So are you." I watched Penelope Garcia grin and laugh. "Touché."

The elevator rang to alert us of its arrival and we both stepped in at the same time once the doors opened. Penelope pushed the floor and close door buttons before turning to me. "So." She said and I raised an eyebrow at her. "So?" I asked expectantly, knowing that she was going to ask me something. "_So, _I was talking to J.J. and Emily yesterday when we got back, after you left."

"I enjoy talking to others sometimes too." I couldn't help myself, grinning as joked. I was rewarded with a swift, but friendly punch to the arm. "Hey, _Ms. Smart-ass_, I wasn't done." I chuckled as I rubbed the spot where she had hit me. "I was talking to them," She continued. "and we decided that we could all use a girls-night-out."

_Crap._

Now, I like Penelope, I really do, but I most definitely am _not_ one for a 'girls-night-out'. The thought of going out and dancing at some shady bar and getting drunk with the girls wasn't exactly my idea of a good evening.

I glanced up to the numbers above the elevator doors that indicated the floor we were on. We weren't close enough to our floor for me to ignore her invitation, there wasn't any way out of it. I cursed inwardly and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket before looking at her. "When did you guys have in mind?" She must have taken my question as an acceptance to her invitation, because as soon as I said it her face lit up. "Well, today _is_ Friday, and we've all had a rough week. Not to mention, we all are going to be doing so much paperwork today..." She trailed off. I rolled my eyes. She could just say today, there was no need to beat around the bush so much.

"Alright, alright. But not too late." I hated how much I sounded like an old woman with that statement, but I was never exactly a 'party animal'. I preferred to spend my time with a few friends just hanging out at one of their places, not at clubs and bars. Hell, I could count how many times I had gone to one on a single hand. I could tell that my last comment went in one ear and out the other by the way she nodded absentmindedly with that same grin on her face. "Great, I'll tell Emily and J.J. when I get the chance."

At that moment the bell in the elevator rang and the doors opened. I stepped out and sighed, heading to my desk as Penelope eagerly went to search for the other two female team members. I shrugged my coat off and draped it over the back of my chair before sitting down. When I actually looked at my desk my heart sank. The stack of files that stood on top of it was enough to bring down even the most upbeat person. I glanced to the other desks around me, finding each of them to have a similar pile of papers on it. Well, at least I wasn't alone.

I turned back to my desk and groaned, grabbing a pen that was laying next to the files and taking the first one off the top of the pile. I flipped it open and bit my lower lip, reading its contents. At the appropriate places I signed my name, and at others I used the pen to elaborate on the details of the case. I glanced up at the clock at one point and frowned, noticing how slowly the hands seemed to move. This was going to take _forever._

* * *

When noon rolled around I was a little past halfway done with the stack. It had gotten easier as the hours rolled by, and I was at the point where I was no longer reading the words so much as glancing at them before moving on. Emily, who had come in just after I had started on the third file, was about halfway done. I looked around to see about the others. Morgan seemed to be at about the same point as me, and when I looked over at Spencer's pile I wasn't the least bit surprised to find him on his second to last file. I leaned back in my chair and stretched out my arms, hearing a few of the bones crack. When I stood I could feel my legs protest, they had become far too accustomed to doing absolutely nothing in the past few hours.

After stretching I turned on my heel and began to weave through the desks and people, making my way to the break room. When I got there I eyed the coffee machine, considering it for a moment before shaking my head and moving to grab just a glass of water. "You don't like coffee?" A voice came from behind me. I continued to fill up the cup I had grabbed with water, glancing over my shoulder. Spencer Reid stood behind me with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a mug, patiently waiting for my answer.

I shrugged. "It's not that I don't like it so much as I don't really like things that are bitter." I told him as I finished filling up the cup in my hands. "I like coffee if it has enough sugar to cover up the bitter taste. Unfortunately, that takes a lot of sugar." I looked over at the small amount of sugar they had sitting next to the coffee machine. "And I don't think the rest of the building would be happy if I used up all the sugar just for one cup of coffee."

I turned around and leaned against the counter lightly, taking a sip from the cup. He smiled a little bit at the answer I gave him and nodded. "I use a lot of sugar in my coffee too." He looked down at the mug of coffee he had in his hand, then back up. "Did you know that an average American consumes two to three pounds of sugar each week?" He tilted his head and I had to keep myself from laughing, I knew it would only confuse him if I did. It was just so funny, the way he would throw out random facts like that if he thought there was someone listening. It seemed to be his default way of keeping a conversation going and I could see the slightly disheartened look he got when the others on the team would brush him off when he started giving out the fun facts. Then again, I hadn't been here for very long and already I could see the troubles they had with it. How was I supposed to respond? I didn't exactly have a vast knowledge of sugar, so I couldn't respond with a fact of my own, but I wasn't really surprised at the statistic either so I couldn't react that way. I opted to tilt my head to the side like he had done and shake my head. "Really?"

He nodded eagerly but seemed to stop himself before he could verbally respond, it was like he was trying to stop himself from throwing out any more facts. "Did you finish your paperwork?" I asked him after a short pause, he seemed to welcome the change in topic happily. "Yeah. I, uh,-" He glanced back to where the desks were, he was probably looking at his own desk. "-I just finished. What about you?" He turned back. "I'm just a little past halfway through." I admitted, sighing. I really did hate the paperwork here. "I don't see how you can already be done with it all. How fast can you read, anyways?"

He blinked and straightened himself up before answering. "I can read 20,000 words per minute." I didn't have to fake any surprise this time. I can't tell you why I was always surprised, he was a genius after all, you'd think I'd see it coming by now. "Seriously?" He nodded. It always seemed like he was never quite as eager or excited to tell facts about himself as he was about far less interesting things, and I could never figure out why. But who knows, maybe those things were most interesting to him than himself.

In the past few days I had come to find it very difficult to talk to profilers. I had a habit of profiling them when we spoke, and I knew they were doing the same to me. It was frustrating because they were the hardest to understand. Profilers spend all their time figuring out who people are and why they do the things they do, and because of it they are the best at hiding those things from other people. With a profiler you only get to see what they want you to see, and so it can be difficult at first to get to know them. That, of course, wasn't going to stop me. I saw the way that the team members trusted one another and helped each other, and I would be damned if I wasn't going to at least try to gain that sort of trust and understanding from them.

I pushed myself away from the counter with my left hand, carefully holding the cup with water in the right. I had run out of things to say and was desperately trying to think of something else to talk about. I had never been good with conversations, preferring to let other people do most of the talking, so I was relieved when Morgan entered the room before the two of us could lapse into an awkward silence. He seemed surprised to see the two of us in there, hesitating a moment before walking to the coffee machine. He had a mug in his hands that he began to fill up.

"You two finished your reports?" He said, arching an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder at the two of us. Reid nodded and smiled. "Yeah, I just finished." Morgan shook his head with a smile on his face. "Why am I not surprised?" I smiled at Morgan's comment. The two of them seemed to have an almost brotherly relationship, and I couldn't help but laugh just a little when they were together. Morgan gave me a confused look when he heard me snicker lightly, but didn't say anything about it. "What about you?" He asked me and my smile immediately faded. I sighed heavily. "I'm barely past halfway through." I grumbled and I saw the amusement return to Derek's face. "Yeah? Same here. The faster I get it done the better, because the sooner I finish this paperwork the sooner my weekend starts." I laughed and told him that I agreed. The weekend did sound nice. I'd be able to call my sister and parents at least, I was beginning to feel a little guilty about not calling them back.

I bit my lip when I glanced up at the clock, realizing that I had spent a lot longer than I had expected in the break room, so I quickly excused myself. Neither of them seemed to mind my sudden rush to leave, both understanding my eagerness to finish my files. I could hear Morgan striking up a conversation with Spencer about his plans for the weekend as I left, returning to my desk to see the same pile of papers sitting on it that had been there before. I sat down in my chair and summoned all the determination I had within me to pick up my pen and flip open the file on top.

_Just a few more._

I attempted to encourage myself as I put the pen to the paper.

_Then you'll be free._

* * *

When the numbers on the clock turned to 5:23 it took every bit of willpower I had not to jump out of my chair and start cheering. I did, however, allow myself the satisfaction of slamming the last file closed. "Done." I mumbled to myself, feeling exhausted. I heard Prentiss chuckle from where she sat at her desk. "Congratulations." I looked up at her and smiled, feeling proud of myself that I had finished before her. Mind you, she wasn't far behind with only two files to go, but it still felt good. "Just go give them to Hotch and you'll be done." She told me. I nearly shot out of my chair, gathering together the pile of papers that I had finished. I glanced up to Hotch's office as I did so, finding him flipping through files at his desk.

_Good. He isn't too busy with anything._

I just wanted to be done with everything, and I wasn't going to wait. I picked up the large pile and nearly ran up the few stairs that lead to the split level his office was on. I approached his door and knocked, only entering when I heard him say to come in. I pushed the door open with one hand and stepped inside slowly. Hotch sat at his desk, looking up from the files he had just been reading. I smiled warmly and walk up to his desk, holding out my files for him to take. "I'm finished with my report, sir." He took the papers from my hand without a word and set them on his desk. He opened up the file on top and began to page through it. I held my breath as he examined it. "Clean handwriting, detailed and thorough explanations, careful word choice." As he commented I thought about how the situation reminded me of a High school teacher grading an essay. The comparison was almost funny enough to make me laugh, but I held it in. He looked up after a moment and smiled. "Nice work."

I couldn't tell you why, but his praise always made me grin like an idiot. "Thank you." I said with a nod. When he flipped the file closed and told me I was free to go the grin on my face grew even wider, if that was at all possible. I thanked him once more and turned on my heel, leaving his office and making it down to my desk in record time. I threw on my jacket and checked the pocket to make sure my keys hadn't fallen out, which I was glad to find that they had not. Turning around I was surprised to come face to face with Penelope Garcia, I took a step back. "Glad to see you too." She quipped, seeing the startled look on my face. "I just came to remind you of our plans for tonight. We will be at your house promptly at seven-o'-clock to pick you up, and don't think you're going to find a way out of it." I laughed at her motherly tone. "I wouldn't dream of trying." I told her and she smiled. "Good."

She began to walk away but stopped after a few steps. "Oh, and don't worry about the directions to your apartment." When she turned around there was a glint in her eyes. "I already found everything in the database." And with that she was gone. I stood there for a while, wondering whether or not I should be afraid, before brushing it off with a laugh.

_Remind me never to get on her bad side._

I told myself before stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket and walking towards the elevator doors. I pushed the button and waited. For a second I had contemplated using the stairs. The only reason I used the elevator in the mornings was because I didn't want to have to climb up all the flights of stairs. I wasn't terrified of elevators by any means, I just felt mildly uneasy about them. Small, confined spaces never were something I enjoyed. My laziness won out in the end and I stepped through the doors and into the small box when it arrived. It was nice when no one else followed me into the elevator, and I was allowed to have a pleasantly uncrowded and quiet ride down to the first floor. Leaving through the front doors I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, the days were getting colder and the wind was particularly harsh today. I turned down the sidewalk and rubbed my hands together to keep them warm. I was going to have to remember to start wearing gloves soon.

* * *

The next two hours consisted of sitting in my bedroom, wondering what to wear. It wasn't that I was trying to decide what would look the best, it was more that I had no idea what would be appropriate. Garcia hadn't said much about where we were going, so I had no clue as to whether I was supposed to dress up a little, or if I should just throw on jeans and a t-shirt and be done with it. I had attempted to call Penelope at one point on my cellphone, but found it impossible when I realized I didn't have her number. In the end I had opted to go semi-casual. It wouldn't be likely that we were going to go anywhere formal, so I figured I would be safe. Dark jeans and a fitted, maroon button-up shirt seemed safe. I kept my hair down, brushing it a few times to get any snarls I had gotten during the day out of it.

At 7:00 sharp there was a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole in the door, finding Penelope standing outside with her hands behind her back, grinning. I opened the door and put my hands on my hips. "You ready to go?" She asked me and I nodded, grabbing my jacket and wallet. I didn't like bringing a purse with me to bars, there was too much of a chance that it could get stolen, so I kept my money in my pocket in a wallet. I also grabbed my keys, shutting and locking my door behind me before slipping the keys into my other pocket.

"So where exactly are we going?" I questioned as we made our way down the stairs and out the building. She looked at me and shook her head. "You'll see when we get there." I was a little irritated by that answer, but there wasn't much I could do. I'd just have to wait and see.

* * *

The drive was very short, the small bar was not even a mile away from my apartment. The four of us had all gone in the same car, which I could only assume was J.J.'s, considering she was the one driving. The bar, when we entered, was nearly empty. There was no music and the lights weren't dim. It was strange, to say the least. I don't know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn't what I was seeing in front of was actually something that I almost enjoyed. The few groups that were there were chatting away, either at the bar itself or at tables spread throughout the room. Penelope dragged us over to a table out of the way and took a seat. I took a chair between Penelope and Prentiss, J.J. sitting across from me. A young man walked up to our table after we had all sat down and politely asked us if we wanted anything. I smiled and was about to ask him what they had on tap before Penelope cut in, ordering a drink for me. I looked at her confused, but she only smirked. When the waiter had left Penelope was the first to speak.

"He wasn't half bad." I raised an eyebrow at her. "What?" She only looked at me like I was an idiot. "_The waiter_." She hissed out, and I looked back to where he was. He couldn't have been any older than myself, and he had short, messy light-brown hair that could easily be mistaken as dirty-blond. I turned back to her and shrugged. He was a fairly good-looking guy, and I assumed that he probably already had a girlfriend. Even if he didn't, though, it made no difference, I wasn't the least bit interested. She gave me an incredulous look and J.J. and Emily both began laughing. "You know, she might just have a different type than you." Emily told Penelope, leaning back in her chair. At that moment the waiter returned with our drinks. Everyone quickly hushed themselves and thanked him when they were handed their drink. Of course, as soon as he left, Penelope leaned forward over the table. "Well, what do you think, Emily?" She asked Prentiss. "I think he's a little young." She told her, smiling the whole time. "I also think-" She started, looking back over to where the young man had walked to. "-that that's probably his girlfriend he's talking to right now." Although we all tried to do it discreetly, it was quite obvious when all of us turned our heads at the same time to look. The waiter was talking to a petite woman with long, wavy blond hair. She hugged him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning around. We all whipped our heads back around quickly so she wouldn't see us staring at her. When I looked at Garcia I could see she was pouting slightly.

"Better luck next time." J.J. told Penelope and we all couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, alright." Penelope said after a while. "If _he_ isn't your type, then what is?" She directed the question at me. I had to stop and think about it for a while, biting my lower lip. "I... I don't really know." I said after a long pause. "I guess I've never really thought about it." Penelope didn't seem satisfied by this answer. "There has to be _something _you like in a guy." I tried to think about it again, but came up with a blank. "Someone who... makes me laugh?" It came out as more of a question. The three of them chuckled at this. "Well, what about physically? What color hair?" J.J. chimed in. It felt strange to have these three girls asking me about what I liked in a guy, I didn't exactly know them well enough to feel comfortable with 'girl talk', but none of them seemed to think it strange, so I decided to just go with it.

"Um, brown or black, I guess. A dark color." This seemed to be a more sufficient answer for Garcia than 'I don't know', but she was still eager to know more. "What about eye color?" I had never really had a preference for eye color, there really didn't seem to be a point. "I don't really have a type of eye color that I find myself attracted to." I told her. "How tall?" Emily asked suddenly. I began to laugh at all the questions. "I don't know, taller than me. I really don't have any specific preferences, I guess. I'd just like a guy who I'm happy to be around. It doesn't really matter if they have brown hair or pink hair, so long as I'm happy with them." I knew it wasn't the answer they were looking for, but honestly it really _didn't_ matter to me. "But I'd rather they have a natural hair color, of course." I said after a moment and they all laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Fair enough." J.J. said, taking a sip of her drink. I looked over at Penelope, who was now staring at me with a look on her face that I couldn't even begin to describe. "You have your eyes on anyone yet?" She asked me, that same strange look on her face. I thought about it for a moment before shaking my head. "No, not really. Then again, I didn't exactly come here to find the love of my life. If I wanted to do that I'd just get myself a reality TV show. I'm here because of the job." Penelope nodded but her facial expression remained the same. "Still,-" She said, leaning back in her chair. "-doesn't mean you can't find yourself a beau while you're at it." I had no idea why she was so keen on the idea of me finding a boyfriend, but I had to laugh at her determination. "Alright, Penelope, if you can find me the right guy I'll be more than happy to give him a chance." She grinned at this. "Honey, that almost sounded like a challenge. And, believe me, Penelope Garcia _never _backs down from a challenge." We all laughed again at her comment. "While you're at it, find me one too." Prentiss told her with a smile. "Yeah, me too." J.J. grinned. "Girls, girls, please. I only have the power to play match-maker with one person at a time."

"I can wait." Prentiss said, and again laughter filled the air. It was surprising, but I was actually enjoying myself. Even if it was a little uncomfortable at first, as the night went on I slowly began to relax, opening up to the three girls. It was nice to have people that I could talk to, being so far away from my friends and family back home. The rest of the night was spent talking about what ever came to our minds, completely losing track of the time. It was long past one in the morning when I finally got back home, slipping into my apartment and locking the door behind me. I was beyond exhausted and collapsed onto my bed, intending on falling asleep in my clothes from the day for the second night in a row, but none of that mattered much to me.

I finally had people who I could call my friends.


	6. Jealousy

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds. Everything in this story is being used purely for entertainment purposes.

Notes: Well, I can't apologize enough for how long you've all had to wait for this chapter! This past month has been completely insane, but I finally found time to get a little writing in. I ended up scrapping the first idea I had for chapter six when my computer destroyed my first draft. I decided to make my own case up, just to see how well I could do without having specific scenes and dialogues to stick to. I was considering writing the entire case in just one chapter, but realized that it would have been way too long. So this case will be broken up into multiple chapters. If any of you have any ideas on what I could do better please, _please _tell me. The only way that I can get better for you guys is if you tell me what you think is wrong. So of course, as always, reviews and constructive criticism is much appreciated! Also, sorry for the lack of Hotch in this chapter. The first idea I originally had was going to have more of him in it, but don't worry, this case will have plenty of Hotch in it! Also, thanks to anyone who reviews, favorites this story, and puts this story on story alert, it means a lot! As always, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**"Hell is empty and all the devils are here. "** -William Shakespeare

**-Chapter 6-**

**Jealousy**

* * *

The weekend flew by rather uneventfully. On Saturday I called my parents, apologizing for how long it had taken me to finally pick up the phone and do so. My mother insisted I tell her everything about what had happened since I made it to Virginia, about how the job was going so far, and about my new colleagues. My father was much more interested in the cases I had been on. Of course I wasn't allowed to tell him all the details, but I knew even without going in to the specifics that he'd still try and tell me that what I was doing was too dangerous and that there was no reason why he couldn't get me a new and safer position closer to home. Which he did tell me, and I politely declined his invitation, like every other time he had offered it to me. Thankfully my mother pulled the phone away from him before he could start begging and she told me to stay safe before saying goodbye. The next day I called my sister, Sam. The conversation with her lasted even longer than it had with my parents. She asked me everything and anything she could think of. By the time I finally hung up the phone my voice was sufficiently hoarse.

When I woke up Monday morning I had to drag myself out of bed like usual. I had had trouble getting to sleep Sunday night as was paying the price for it now. Taking a shower did little to help, but at least it was something. By the time I was ready to leave the clock read 6:45. I'd have just enough time to make it to work. Leaving my half-eaten bowl of cereal in the sink and grabbing my things I flew out the door, ready to get the day started

I arrived at work with time to spare, stepping out the elevator and trying to put on the best '_I'm awake and ready for anything!_' look that I could summon up. I sat down at my desk and threw my stuff on top of it, draping my coat over the back of the chair and leaning back with a sigh. I paused for a moment to take a look around, seeing that Prentiss and Reid were the only ones also at their desks. Looking up I noticed the door to Hotch's office was closed. The glass that usually allowed us to see into the office was covered by white blinds. Whatever Hotch was doing in there, it was important enough that he didn't want to be bothered.

I glanced over at Prentiss. She was sitting down across from me at her own desk while she seemed to stare off into the distance, no doubt thinking about something. "What's up with Hotch?" I asked her. I had really only been looking to strike up a conversation with her, but I also couldn't help but be a little curious as to what was going on. Prentiss snapped her head to stare straight at me with a look of surprise written on her face.

_Did she really not notice me sit down?_

She cleared her throat after a moment before responding. "I don't know." She shrugged slowly. "The blinds were shut when I got here, but the door was open until J.J. went in there just a little bit ago." I leaned forward in my chair while she spoke, becoming even more curious by the second.

"Do you think it's a new case?" I asked her. She shrugged again. "I dunno, but if it is then we'll find out soon enough." As if on cue Hotch's door opened and out came J.J. and Hotch. They both had serious looks on their faces and Hotch walked forward to the railing, gripping the bar and looking down at us. "Everyone, meet me in the conference room in ten minutes. Prentiss, run and tell Garcia." Prentiss was on her feet the second the order left his lips. "Yes, sir." I watched her as she quickly turned and made her way to go find Penelope. "Fischer?" I turned my attention back to Hotchner. "When Morgan gets here tell him the same." I nodded my head in understanding. "Yes, sir."

Hotch released the railing and went immediately to the conference room, J.J. at his heels. I noticed a large folder in her hands and couldn't help the eager feeling that built up in my stomach. Of course the possibility of there being another person out there willing to harm others for their sick pleasures wasn't something to get excited about, but the thought that I could get out of this office and get back out on the field was more than enough to make me itching for a new case. Morgan couldn't get there soon enough.

* * *

It took the full ten minutes for every one to get in and get situated in their seats. Hotch was at the head of the table, an empty seat for J.J. on his right. Rossi sat on his left and next to Rossi was Spencer. I was next, then Penelope, then Morgan, then finally Emily sat in between J.J. and Morgan. J.J. was currently standing near a large screen that we were all turned towards. By us were open files spread out across the table. J.J. spoke once everyone looked settled. "In the past two years Thief River Falls, Minnesota has had a total of seven unsolved murder cases. It seems they have a serial killer on their hands." She began, holding up a small remote that would allow her to change what was being shown on the screen in front of us.

"_Seven_? Why weren't we called until now?" Rossi asked the question everyone in the room was thinking. We should have been called in around the fourth victim if we had a serial killer to deal with. "Up until recently they thought the murders were committed by different unsubs. When the girls were brought in for autopsies, they found that each one was raped prior to death. Unfortunately, when they ran the semen samples, not only did the tests come back with no results in the database, but they also came back with different results for each victim."

"But that's not _that _uncommon. It's possible that we have a group of unsubs working together." I said, watching as J.J. clicked a button on the remote and the screen came to life. Penelope uttered a sound of disgust and looked away. The first picture was of a young woman. She was laying in the grass with her body turned on its side. Blood stains covered the lower part of her shirt and pants, her clothing was the only thing hiding the obvious stab wounds from our sight. Her hands were clasped together, as if they had been bound, but nothing was tying them together. It was difficult to see at first, but upon closer inspection you could see two straight, deep wounds along each wrist. The most unsettling part about the body, however, was not the wounds, but her face. Dried blood covered her jaw and her expression was twisted into a mixture of unearthly pain and horror. Her eyes were open and wide and I couldn't help but flinch a little at the gruesome sight.

"The first victim was Anna Hale, age 17. She was raped, stabbed in the genitals three times, her tongue was cut out, and the radial artery was severed in both wrists. The autopsy showed that she was then forced to bleed out before the unsub- or _unsubs_- left her body in a ditch off the side of a road." J.J. pressed the button on the remote again and the picture changed. This time the woman was significantly older. The blood on the front of her shirt looked to be less in quantity than the previous victim as well. "Rebecca Maldoon, age 32. She was stabbed once in the genitals, as opposed to the previous victims three stab wounds. The dump site for the body was an old abandoned parking lot by the edge of the town." The tongue of this victim seemed to have been cut out as well, and both wrists were cut too. The hands where clasped together the same as Anna's were, and nothing was tying them together for Rebecca either.

J.J. continued, clicking the remote. "Danielle Farmer, 22, was stabbed five times and left along the bank of Red Lake River. Christina Merril, 30, was stabbed seven times and dumped near an old construction site. Alissa Slater, 18, had one stab wound. Her body was dumped near a biking trail. Brooke Lindsay, 19, was stabbed four times and left in a cemetery about a mile away from her home. Finally, last week, Emily Conors, age 16. She was stabbed twice and her body was left in a park close to her house." As she explained each girls fate she would bring up their respective picture on the monitor. The bodies were placed in no particular fashion. Sometimes on their backs, sometime on their sides, one was even propped up against the trunk of a tree.

"That's a pretty wide range in ages." Commented Rossi. The rest of the team nodded in agreement. "Not to mention, a huge difference in dump sites. It's like the unsub couldn't decide how public of a place they were willing to dump the bodies in." Prentiss said as she looked through the files on the table, a different one for each girl.

"J.J., did the autopsy say anything about the victims' hands being bound?" J.J. blinked at Spencer's question before flipping open a file on the table and quickly scanning through it. "It says that they found markings on their wrists and ankles that indicate that they were tied down to something prior to their deaths." J.J. relayed from the paper in front of her.

Spencer shook his head, that wasn't what he meant. "What about after death? Were their hands bound _together_ at any point?" J.J. looked through the autopsy report in front of her for a moment before shaking her head. "If they were, it doesn't say." Spencer nodded and leaned back in his seat. I had the urge to ask him what he was thinking, but the look of concentration he had on his face as he stared at the folders in front of him was enough to make anyone leave him to his thoughts.

Hotch cleared his throat and all attention snapped to him. "We'll be briefed on the details when we get there, we can talk about our ideas on the ride over. For now, everyone should get their things ready, we'll be leaving in two hours." The team nodded in agreement before filing out of the conference room one by one. I walked briskly to my desk, grabbing my coat off the back of the chair and throwing it on. This was going to be an interesting case, I could already tell.

* * *

It didn't matter if it was the second or hundredth time I had ridden in the jet, it was just as amazing every time. I didn't even want to think of how much something like this would cost. The furnishings inside were beautiful and looked expensive, to save the least. We were about an hour and a half into our two and a half hour flight, and I sat in a chair across from Emily. She had a book in her hands that I was attempting to discreetly read the title of. Hotchner and Rossi were sitting opposite of each other near us and talking about the case, and Morgan and Reid sat across from one another and did the same. J.J. walked down the aisle with the folders in her hands and took her place in the empty seat next to Emily.

"So what do you think so far?" J.J. asked us, setting the folder down. I shrugged and Prentiss took a bookmark from her lap, marking the page she was on before closing her book. "I think that we're going to have our work cut out for us if we have to catch more than seven different unsubs." I told her and she nodded in agreement. "How many do you think there are?" I thought about this for a few seconds, choosing my answer carefully. "I think we have at least eight. One that's the ring leader of them all, the one calling the shots, and the others are just doing the dirty work."

"But isn't it possible that the first victim's killer _is_ the leader, so we'd only have seven unsubs?" I shrugged again. "Anything's possible, but I don't think that's the case. It's probably true that the leader was present for the killings of each victim, they might even have been the one doing the killing each time, but I think our unsub is trying to use the rapes as a means of spreading the blame so we're less likely to find them." Emily and J.J. both nodded.

"If that's the case, then our unsub would have to have a lot of power over a lot of people. It's risky to think that no one will come forward." Morgan's voice caught our attention. I turned to see him and Spencer staring at the three of us, obviously having listened in on our conversation. "It's possible that the unsub isn't telling their accomplices that they're going to have to partake in a murder. The unsub is probably blackmailing them to help dispose of the body and to keep them quiet after the fact. It's one thing for someone to come forward and admit to rape, it's another thing entirely for someone to admit to being an accomplice to a murderer." Spencer threw in his two cents. At this point Rossi and Hotch had become interested in the conversation as well, and both had fallen silent to listen.

"So how old do you think the unsub is?" J.J. asked and no one said anything for a moment. "It's hard to say." Emily started slowly. "The large range in ages suggests that the unsub doesn't have a preference in the age of the victim, and the girls don't have anything that stands out as a similar physical characteristic between them, so we can pretty much rule that out. They might have a common hobby or place they visit that means something to the unsub."

In front of Spencer on the table between him and Morgan was a map that he had been using to plot the points of where the bodies were discovered. "I tried to find the unsub's comfort zone. From what I can see, it looks like the entire city of Thief River Falls is within that zone. It's likely that the unsub has lived there their whole life, considering they aren't willing to go anywhere outside of the city."

Hotch nodded and spoke. "Prentiss and J.J.? After the briefing I want you two to go to the first victim's house. See if her parents remember anything about the murder that might help us. If the unsub was ever likely to mess up and leave some evidence behind, it would be with the first victim." The two girls nodded in acknowledgment. "Reid and Fischer? The two of you and I will head over to the latest victim's house to question her parents. I want to see if they remember anything about the night their daughter went missing." We both nodded. He then turned his gaze onto Morgan. "And Morgan and Rossi? I want you two to head to the park the latest victim's body was discovered at. See if you can find anything that they might have missed in the reports." After Hotch was done giving out his orders the whole team lapsed into a silence that I knew would last the rest of the flight.

Leaning back in my chair I turned my head to look out the window. Sure, I wasn't going back to Wisconsin, but I'd be close enough that I could almost imagine I was home. Winter was fast approaching and as I looked down at the wide array of leave colors on the fall trees, I had to hold back a small smile. Fall always was beautiful up north.

* * *

After arriving we were greeted by the authorities of the area. One man, a Mr. George Ingram, seemed to be the one running everything. He was a burly man with a mustache that he kept neatly trimmed, and he looked to be in his late 40's. We followed him back to the police station, where he filled us in on the details of the case. Apparently there were currently no suspects and no one had come forward with any information, although they had made an announcement on the news that anyone having any information about the killer should call an anonymous tip line that they had set up. The killings had been going on for the past two years with the first two being months apart, and the most recent two being only two weeks apart.

When the briefing was done the team split up into their predetermined groups before heading out. The Thief River Falls police department had supplied the team with three squad cars for transportation purposes, and although they obviously were not very subtle cars, they would have to do for the case. At least we wouldn't have to walk. I got into the back of a squad car with Hotch and Spencer in the front. Hotch took the drivers seat, and Spencer took the passengers seat. I felt a little strange, sitting in the back seat of the squad car instead of the front, but I said nothing. It would only be for transportation purposes and only while we were here in Minnesota, I could suck it up until the case was finished.

It didn't take long to drive to the latest victim's house. The town might have had a population of over 8,000, but the town itself was only about five square miles, so it wasn't very far of a drive from the station. After parking the car and fishing out our badges, the three of us approached the door. Hotch knocked twice on the front door and there was a long pause, no sound coming from inside the house. Hotch was about to knock a second time when the door opened just far enough for us to see who had answered it.

A woman stood in the doorway. She looked to be in her late 30's, and she had a petite frame. Her shoulder-length blond hair looked unkempt and she had dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in a very long time. She appeared to be almost scared as she looked at the three of us, and she wrung her hands together in a nervous fashion. "H-hello?" Her voice was so meek and quiet, it was almost inaudible. The three of us presented our badges to her slowly, as if any quick movements might frighten her into closing the door on us.

"Mrs. Conors? We're with the FBI." Hotch's voice was soft and had a comforting tone to it. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, and these are Special Agents Marie Fischer, and Spencer Reid." I tried to give her a warm smile as her eyes darted from me to Spencer and back when we were introduced. I don't know how much it helped, but she seemed to be visibly more relaxed afterwards. "Can we come in and ask you a few questions?" Hotchner's words had a cautious hint to them, he didn't know how stable the woman was emotionally at this point, and he didn't want to send her in to a sobbing frenzy even before we made it through the door.

Mrs. Conors took a long moment before nodding and stepping out of the way so that the three of us could enter. I put my badge back into my pocket and watched as Hotch and Reid did the same. Hotch went in first, and I followed right behind him. Spencer was the last through the door and I heard Mrs. Conors shut the door gently after he was inside. She then scurried in front of us and motioned for us to follow her. She led us through a large doorway into what looked to be a living room before turning to us. "You can sit down wherever you'd like. Would any of you like anything to drink?" Her feeble voice asked us. We all politely declined before taking our seats.

The living room was not very large. It consisted of two couches that faced one another and had a table in between them. There was also a large arm-chair that was next to the couches that faced the table as well. Hotch sat in the arm-chair, and I sat on the end of the nearest couch that was closest to Hotch. Spencer sat down beside me on the couch, and then finally Mrs. Collins sat down across from us on the opposite couch. She put her hands in her lap to stop herself from fidgeting and waited for one of us to speak.

"Mrs. Conors, I'm sure you've already realized why we're here." Hotch said. She didn't speak, she only nodded. "Mrs. Conors, what can you tell us about the night Emily went missing?" Upon hearing Emily's name Mrs. Conors seemed to shudder.

"She called to tell me she was walking home from a friend's house. It... it was only a block away, so I figured she'd be fine by herself. I should have gone to get her, if I had gone to get her-" I couldn't let her get any farther with her sentence, at this rate she was only going to get herself worked up, and then she'd be no help to us. "Mrs. Conors, what happened after Emily called you?" I cut her off and she seemed startled, blinking for a second before calming down and continuing. "I guess she left her friend's house. It was about 9:20 when she called, I remember because I was on the computer and looked at the clock on it right after I hung up. After she called I went back to what I was doing. I... I remember thinking it was taking her a long time to get home, because it wasn't very far. I only realized something was wrong when I looked at the clock again and noticed it was 9:50. It wouldn't take her a half an hour to walk a block. I ran and woke my husband up, and we got some flashlights, and we went out looking for her. We looked, and we looked, and we looked, but-but she wasn't anywhere!" As she continued her voice grew stronger and more frantic. "So I-i ran home and called the police. It's not a very big town, so they were here in a few minutes. They helped us look, but... but we couldn't find her anywhere!"

When she looked up at us I could see the tears brimming in her eyes. "It's O.K., Mrs. Conors." Hotch tried to calm her down. "Now, can you tell us, was Emily acting strangely at all before she was taken?" Mrs. Conors didn't seem to understand the question. "Strangely?" Hotch nodded. "Strangely. Did she sound different to you on the phone? Did she sound scared to you?" She shook her head. "Did she say anything strange? Something that sounded out of character for her to say?" Again, Mrs. Conors shook her head. "No, no. She didn't say anything strange. She sounded happy, like she had been having a good time..."

"Mrs. Conors, may I ask where your husband is right now?" I asked her. She looked at me with those same sad-looking blue eyes. "He's at work. He works over at Lincoln High School. He's a science teacher." I nodded and smiled at her. "Do you know when he'll be home?" She seemed to feel more relaxed when she wasn't talking about her daughter. "He should be home in about two hours, once the school lets out."

Spencer cleared his throat to bring attention to himself. "Mrs. Conors, would you mind if we took a look in your daughter's room?" This question seemed to confuse her the most. "Her room? Why do you need to see her room?" Spencer gave her a gentle, reassuring smile. "It's just for profiling, ma'am. Looking at her room allows us to understand who she was. The information might even help us catch whoever did this." Although she was hesitant, the suggestion that the killer might be caught if we got a look at her daughter's room seemed to win her over, and she nodded and stood up. "Yes, of course, follow me."

She went through another doorway and down a hallway with doors lining the walls. At the end of the hall was a door with a large sign on it. The sign was decorated with colorful gel pens and stickers and I smiled sadly when I looked at it, it read '_Emily's Room_' in curly letters. Mrs. Conors took the handle and turned it, opening the door slowly before stepping out of the way for us to enter and looking back at us. "This is it." Her voice had gone back to sounding weak and fragile. I couldn't help but feel pity for the woman, having lost her only child to some sick psycho and now having to relive the experience all over again for us. I followed Spencer into the room and took a long look around, looking back to see Hotch turn to Mrs. Conors. "Do you think I could ask you just a few more questions?" He asked her and she nodded. He put a hand on her shoulder and began to lead her back into the living room, no doubt wanting to spare her from having to watch us dig through her recently deceased daughter's stuff.

Looking back I noticed Spencer was already sorting through drawers and looking through pictures. When he had the time to put on the latex gloves he now had on, I didn't know, but that was Spencer for you. I put my own gloves on and set to work on the other side of the room, carefully shifting through Emily's things. After a full fifteen minutes of searching, we had come up with next to nothing. Emily seemed to be a happy, healthy young girl, with plenty of friends. I had made my way across the room all the way over to her bed, which I was now hesitantly digging under. There was plenty under there, I just hoped that there weren't any bugs I'd run in to. The last thing I needed was a surprise visit from any hairy spiders or other creepy-crawlies. Pulling dirty socks and shoes from underneath, I was about to give up my search, when suddenly a small box caught my attention. I was just barely able to grip the side of it and drag it out. Spencer, upon hearing the sound of the box sliding against the floor, abruptly stopped what he was doing and turned his attention to me and the box.

It was a regular shoe box from the outside, although the spider webs that covered it were very disconcerting to me, I took the lid and slowly lifted it off the box. Peering inside I could see a few pictures, a small book, and another small box. "Jackpot." I breathed as I took out a picture and examined it. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Spencer took a seat beside me and grabbed another picture from the box. "Looks like Emily was pretty friendly with more than just Alan, huh?" Alan was the name I had found written on the back of a picture that Emily had of her and a young boy holding hands on her dresser. Or, more specifically, I found his name and her name written inside of a large heart she had drawn on the back of the picture. The picture I was currently looking at was one of Emily, not with Alan, but with some unknown male. They were kissing each other, and I flipped the picture over too see if there was a name written on this one too, which there wasn't.

Spencer only nodded to my comment, grabbing another picture from the box and looking at it. Setting the picture down next to me, I went to go pick up the box. It was small and made of wood, and there was nothing written or carved in to the surface. I took the small box into my hands, and as soon as I did I felt something brush against my finger. Horror shot through my body and I pulled my hand away from the box as fast as I could, letting out a very quick yelp. It wasn't terribly loud, but it was loud enough to startle Spencer Reid into dropping the pictures he was holding. "What is it?" He asked in alarm and confusion. Immediately I felt embarrassment replace the fear I had felt just moment before. I avoided his gaze because the heat on my cheeks told me I was blushing pretty badly.

"Something, um... Something brushed against my finger..." I held my hand close to my body, as though it had just been bitten. I wasn't looking straight at him, but I knew he was thoroughly confused. "What?" I bit my lower lip and nodded towards the box. "When I tried to grab the wooden box something brushed against my finger." Spencer raised an eyebrow and lifted the wooden box out of shoe box. The moment he did a large, furry insect dashed from its hiding place behind the wooden box and it dove underneath the pile of photos. I bit my bottom lip to keep from yelping again and I slid myself away from the box as fast as I could. "Spider!" I managed to get out, pulling my knees up and hugging them to myself in order to get further away from the beast. I _**hated **_spiders. More than _anything_. Serial killers? Dark alleys? Scary movies? They were _nothing_ compared to those eight-legged monsters.

Spencer's confused expression quickly turned to that of amused. "You're arachnophobic?" I couldn't take my eyes off the box to look at him. If that _thing _was going to try and come get me, I would know the second it got out of that box, and I could make a run for it. Spencer smiled and I watched him dig his hand into the box, carefully taking the photos out one by one. "It's normal to have a fear of spiders." He continued on. "Did you know that half of all women, and a quarter of all men in the United States experience it to some degree?" He lifted the book out of the box and set it next to the pile of pictures. I didn't respond, but that didn't seem to bother him. He grabbed two pictures from the small pile he had made and took one in each hand, reaching into the box. "It's one of the most common phobias, but only 1% of people who suffer from it ever seek help." Using one of the pictures to coax the spider onto the other, he slowly lifted the spider out of the box and made his way over to the window, unlocking it and pushing it open. He set the picture down on the windowsill and, after a moment in which I can only assume that the spider climbed out the window, turned back with a smile on his face. "There, he's gone." I let all the tensed up muscles in my body relax at that news. I was safe. I looked up at him with an embarrassed half-smile on my face. "Thanks." It was all I could say, and he nodded before turning back to the windowsill.

Gripping the edge, he was about to close the window when suddenly he stopped. He leaned his head out and seemed to examine the side of the house. "Hey, Marie." He called back and I stood up, my breathing finally having returned to normal. "Come look at this." I moved over to where he was and he pulled his head back in before pointing out the window. "Look at the side of the house right under the window." I did as I was told and stuck my head out the window, careful to make sure the spider was gone. I examined the side of the house closely. "It... It looks like there's some kind of scuff marks..." I commented, leaning a little bit further out. "And look at the plants on the lattice." He instructed. I looked where he told me to and saw that the plants were crushed in a few places. "Someone was climbing up the lattice?" I pulled my head back in the window and looked at Spencer, who nodded. "I'm guessing that the pictures in the box can give us a good idea of who was climbing up to meet with Emily." I went back over to the pile of pictures and sat down. "And I bet this book will give us a name to match to the face." I said, holding up the small book in my hands. Spencer took his seat next to me once more after closing and locking the window and he lifted the wooden box off the ground. "Hopefully we can find a key for this, too." He said, flipping the box around so I could see the small lock on it that was keeping it closed.

I nodded and flipped open the book to the first page. A small envelope slipped from the book and fell to the ground. Spencer picked it up and carefully opened it, peering inside before turning the envelope over and letting a small key fall on to the palm of his hand. "Speak of the devil." I said. He took the small key and grabbed the wooden box again, putting the key into the lock and twisting it until there was a soft _click_. Slowly he opened the top of the box, looking inside. I couldn't see what was in it but from the look on his face, it wasn't what he had expected to find. "What is it?" I asked him. "It..." He sounded confused. "It's empty."

"What?" Why would she keep an empty box locked? "I can tell that there was something in it at one point, but it's empty now." I held out the book in my hands and he took it, handing me the wooden box to see. I looked in and saw that it was, indeed, empty. Inside, it was lined with dark blue fabric that had a small indent in the center where an item used to be. "What do you think was in here?" I asked and Spencer shrugged. "I dunno. We should take it back with us just in case, along with everything else in that shoe box." I agreed with him and we packed up the box, putting the lid back on the top. Spencer grabbed it and the both of us exited Emily's room, ready to find Hotch and get back to the police station.

* * *

When we arrived back at the station Spencer immediately set to work on reading through the book from the shoe box while I explained what we found to Hotch. Rossi and Morgan were the first to return, telling us that they had found nothing at the most recent crime scene that wasn't in the reports. When J.J. and Prentiss returned they told us how they had had no luck in finding any other clues as well. The parents story was very similar to Mrs. Conors'. Apparently their daughter was driving home from a friend's house at night and never came home. Her car was parked in their driveway the next morning, but Anna wasn't anywhere to be seen. They found her body two days later in a ditch.

When Spencer finished reading through the book he took two of the pictures from the box and hung them up on the board we had started making with the names of the victims and all their relations, hoping to find some sort of connection that put them all together. He put the pictures up next to Emily's and in red under the first one he wrote the name Daniel Swanson and under the second he wrote the name Collin Townsend. He explained that the book was a diary that Emily kept. In it she described three boys by the names of Daniel Swanson, Collin Townsend, and Alan Rowe. She explained in her diary about how she was dating Alan, but that she was getting "nightly visits" from two boys named Daniel and Collin. It was obvious that her mother was oblivious to her nightly visitors, and I couldn't help but feel a little bit of disgust.

_She was only 16. What was she thinking?_

It was a motive for sure, maybe someone got jealous and went a step too far when getting back at her, but that wouldn't be enough to explain the six other deaths. We left the station and headed for the hotel that day with more questions than answers. Who would be capable of killing seven females without ever raising suspicion? What did all the victims have in common? And most of all, when would the killer strike next? Entering my hotel room and collapsing on the bed, I only knew one thing for certain: This was going to be a long case.


End file.
